


Tooru (or, Of Stubborn Persons Who Play Volleyball)

by eclectic_literature



Category: Emma - Jane Austen, Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club - Freeform, Chatting & Messaging, Conversations, Emma AU, Emma by Jane Austen, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay Marriage is Legal, Gen, Honorifics, Humor, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jane Austen - Freeform, Jealousy, Karasuno, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Modern Retelling, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, first fic, side pairings are given importance, will add relationships as we go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8513035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclectic_literature/pseuds/eclectic_literature
Summary: Pretty, rich and self proclaimed “people person” Oikawa Tooru decides to take his new neighbour, Hinata Shouyou, under his wing and set him up with a suitable person in their apartment complex. However, the rest of the residents have plans of their own.Or, Iwaoi in a modern story based off Jane Austen's Emma! (which nobody asked for but we all know Oikawa is Emma right?)(You don't need to have read Emma to get it, though.)(Ratings at the beginning of each chapter, T unless stated otherwise.)





	1. Chapter 1 – Of Inappropriate Kissing and Hopeless Romantics

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone :)
> 
> I've loved fanfiction for ages but my love for Haikyuu!! pushed me out of the shadows and into an actual AO3 account. So this is for my OTP, IwaOi, because Oikawa is hilarious and vulnerable and Iwa-chan is gruff but also vulnerable and honestly I cannot imagine these two apart. So.
> 
> Unbeta'd.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worse yet, he was completely immune to Oikawa to the point that he’d just ignore him, and that was something Oikawa was yet to face in his twenty-eight years on this planet.

Oikawa Tooru adjusted his boutonnière for what seemed like the twentieth time in the past couple of minutes.

Really, he wasn’t nervous in the least, he assured himself, fingers absently stroking the vibrant purple orchid. His best friend was getting married (something he had brought about, though nobody bothered to thank him) and he looked fabulous – he’d checked. Next to him, Iwa-chan wore a matching silver-grey suit, but his lapel held a carnation. Contrasting with Oikawa’s restlessness, he stood perfectly still. Not stiff – just relaxed, solid. A grounded presence, from his planted feet to his broad shoulders. Oikawa noted, with fleeting sadness, that his arms weren’t bared, but the jacket hugged him in all the right places. Iwa-chan’s arms were a sight to behold, one he refused to share with the whole world for whatever reason. Something about being a ‘beefcake’, and he’d given Oikawa a funny look when he’d declared that a lot of people liked red meat, thank you very much.

“What’re you smirking about?” Iwa-chan asked suspiciously. His mouth threatened to move into The Pout, eyebrows lowering. Such an intimidating face, Oikawa mused. Yet animals and small children loved him, like Takeru, who’d started practising Iwaizumi-san’s pout in front of a mirror.  
“Your face,” Oikawa said honestly, grinning when Iwa-chan’s cheeks dusted with pink. “It’s so scary Iwa-chan, do you want to drive all the guests away?”  
“Shut up, dumbass.” Iwa-chan muttered, looking ahead down the aisle where Mattsun and Makki were approaching. “Look, they’re here.”

Mattsun’s hair was hopeless as usual – he’d tried to style it with gel during the rehearsal dinner but Makki’d thrown a fit. Mattsun had reciprocated by vetoing Oikawa’s idea of drawing Makki some eyebrows. So here they were, Oikawa mused, looking the same as ever. Well, if they had issues with the wedding photographs later they couldn’t blame him. But he doubted it. Mattsun’s sleepy face was, for once, alert and happy, and Makki’s sly smirk was replaced by a genuine grin. Both were blushing beautifully as they looked at each other, and Oikawa had to look away, the pit in his stomach seeming to deepen. He felt annoyed with himself – what was this feeling anyway?

To distract himself, he examined their suits. They’d gone with navy blue silk three-pieces, black velvet bow-ties, polished black shoes. Oikawa’d suggested the blue as an alternative to boring black and dreadful white. He felt for the box in his pocket, knew Iwa-chan held a similar one. Everything was in place. _Relax, Tooru, relax._  
He felt a warm hand on his. “You checked everything six times,” Iwa-chan murmured as Makki and Mattsun walked to them, waving like a couple of celebrities. That was their one request. Have an enormous audience and a leisurely path down the aisle to where Asahi stood to officiate. “The rings, the suitcases, the gifts, the flight tickets and hotel tickets. Their room will have a bottle of that expensive champagne-”  
“Bollinger.”  
“Yes, that. And red roses. Honestly though, are either of them that romantic? Stop inflicting your fantasies on other people, Shittykawa.”  
“Shhhh Iwa-chan, it’s the thought that counts. Now shut up, here they come.”

His eyes met Makki’s, and felt the grin that formed of its own accord. His best friend looked so damn _happy_. Content. At peace. This was worth the breakdown over the cake with the pink roses vs the yellow ones (they went with the pink to match Makki’s hair.) This was worth two days’ agonizing over seating placements. This was worth a 3am phone call that went _“Oikawa, I just realized I have to look at Issei’s wrinkly balls thirty years from now, how is anybody ever OK with marriage?”_

He almost missed the signal for the rings, and silently apologized to Daichi, who was looking at him with a mild disapproval that felt almost fatherly. His brother-in-law was only a couple of years older than Oikawa and Iwaizumi, and a good six years younger than Koushi, but he seemed more mature than any of them. Asahi finished officiating with a smooth, resonant “I now pronounce you husband and husband!” and Oikawa politely averted his gaze as two of his best friends on the planet proceeded to suck face with enthusiasm. His gaze caught Iwa-chan’s again, and the distinct glassy sheen in those grey eyes.

"Iwa-chan, are you _crying_?”  
“Shut up, Trashykawa. I’m happy for them.”  
“Aww, you’re such a softie, Iwa-chan.” He glanced back at Makki and Mattsun and immediately regretted it. “Did I just imagine the tongue?”  
Iwa-chan was grinning. “Eh, I suppose I won’t box their ears. Just this once.”  
“The best wedding present you could give them,” Oikawa intoned soberly. “Of course, when Iwa-chan marries some lucky person, it’ll be a shy little peck on the mouth, no?”  
Iwa-chan seemed to give him an unreadable look, but it disappeared almost immediately and Oikawa decided he’d imagined it.

They started guiding the guests to the dance/dinner hall, and the strange sensation returned to Oikawa’s belly as Makki and Mattsun refused to let go of each other, moving in clumsy sync and giggling before they’d even drunk the champagne. Watching them, he briefly wondered what it would be like to just be that sure, that steady, that happy. Sure, they’d enthused over the romantic elements and details, but Oikawa felt that if they’d only had a simple dinner and a couple of days at some hotel to look forward too, they’d have reacted exactly like this.

He didn’t know why it struck him deeply just then; after all, Makki and Mattsun’s story had been the slow-burn to end all slow-burns. They’d been each other’s first kiss, freaked out, confessed, tried dating, broken up, promised to stay friends, lost touch in college and Oikawa’d practically had to bash their heads to get them to meet up again at the reunion last year.

Iwa-chan had warned him not to interfere, but he’d concocted an elaborate plan for a movie with the two of them. Then done that thing where he’d convinced Iwa-chan to call them up on his behalf and say he was very sick. (It has been a sad compromise because he’d been in a hurry and resorted to the most clichéd set-up tactic of all time, and he didn't like to dwell on it.) He’d bribed Iwa-chan with multiple servings of Koushi’s homemade agedashi tofu and a promise to never interfere again if this grand scheme didn’t work out. Thankfully, it had.

He looked again at Makki and Mattsun’s faces. They were shining with a purity that Iwa-chan would have said looked uncharacteristic on them. He examined the feeling in his stomach. _Is this what it’s like to be jealous?_

\---

Iwaizumi helped himself to a slice of cake (it was delicious, Kenma had outdone himself) and a glass of wine, and sat at the edge of the dance floor. He didn’t even notice the shadow until Oikawa said “Not going to dance, Iwa-chan?”

“Not in the mood.” Iwaizumi was lying, and they both knew it. Oikawa was the more flamboyant of the two of them, but Iwaizumi had a great rhythm and a beautifully deep singing voice. Oikawa was probably wondering how to get him to drink enough to let it show, like he’d done that time at Daichi and Koushi’s wedding.

That’s how they’d properly gotten to know each other, back when they’d both been second-years in college. Daichi had been only twenty-one, and Koushi’d borne all the cradle-robbing comments with grace. But the relief Iwaizumi felt once their ceremony had gone off without a hitch had translated into too much champagne, and standing on a table singing _My Heart Will Go On_ , and waking up to Oikawa holding out a cup of coffee and a two-hour gap in his memory. Iwaizumi wasn’t keen on repeating the experience anytime soon.

“You just don’t want to steal their thunder,” Oikawa murmured, “You’re unexpectedly nice, Iwa-chan.”  
“You’re surprisingly mellow.” Iwaizumi retorted. “Aren’t I the one with the social skills of a baboon on cocaine, the subtlety of Mjolnir and the density of the nucleus of an atom?”  
Oikawa blinked, taken aback. “You file my insults away for future reference?”  
“It’s the sheer concentration of nerdiness in those three lines that makes them memorable.”  
“Says the man who once named his pet iguana Kaiju.”  
“Daichi’s too susceptible to that brother of yours. I should stop telling him things.”

They looked at their respective siblings who were near the buffet table. Daichi had his arms around Koushi’s waist, Koushi’s elbows resting on his big shoulders. Daichi had the Iwaizumi family build, but Koushi had the Oikawa charm. He was looking at his husband with those sparkling brown eyes, his white teeth digging a little into his bottom lip, his expression sweet and innocent and absolutely deceptive. Where Oikawa’s appeal was more in-your-face, distracting and glamorous, Koushi’s was softer, warm and solid. He was quieter and less devious but, Iwaizumi mused, that was only compared to his brother. Kenma had once compared the two of them to red velvet cake and brownies. Right now, Koushi had his husband hanging on to his every word, and Daichi seemed torn between embarrassment and utter captivation. It was hard to believe they’d been together for nine years.

“He looks pretty happy if you ask me.” Oikawa murmured, and Iwaizumi started. “Where were you lost, Iwa-chan?”  
“I was thinking he looks like a goner, but he’s so happy about it I can’t really complain.”  
Oikawa blinked. “Iwa-chan, you are an absolutely hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”  
“Shut up, Bakawa,” Iwaizumi muttered, “You spent days with Akaashi discussing the flower arrangements.”

Makki and Mattsun’s wedding had become something of a community event in their apartment complex. It was just that they were such an insular bunch; it was one of the few in their area where the owner was OK with renting out to young, single people with varying sexualities and lifestyles, and the rent was affordable. To top it off, the building’s owner, Irihata-sensei, had been a childhood volleyball enthusiast and had constructed an indoor court in the gym at his own expense. They’d formed a residents’ volleyball club and gotten to know each other there. Honestly, Oikawa was grateful to their little world for pitching in; Makki and Mattsun had wanted an elaborate wedding on a very tight schedule, and he was lucky that his job as a Man of Honor (Makki’s term) hadn’t been too hard. Then again, a lot of that had to do with Iwa-chan, who’d definitely gone beyond his Best Man duties. Oikawa turned to him to say thank you, and was met with empty air.

He looked around and spotted Iwa-chan at the bar, one hand on the chest of the bartender and the other on that of...Oikawa groaned as he recognized him. It was Kyoutani, their resident neighbour from hell. Or as Oikawa had nicknamed him, the Mad Dog. Kyoutani was a sullen participant in the volleyball team, never really listening to anyone except Iwa-chan, and he was the kind of neighbour who’d once banged on Kuroo and Bokuto’s door when the music wasn’t even loud (and he lived on the opposite side of the building anyway) and who’d once cross-parked in Akaashi’s spot because he was allergic to flowers and Akaashi’d had the nerve to smell like them. Worse yet, he was completely immune to Oikawa to the point that he’d just ignore him, and that was something Oikawa was yet to face in his twenty-eight years on this planet.

Recently though, he’d been surprisingly nice to Makki and Mattsun, giving them a honeysuckle plant (that he’d bought from Akaashi’s shop) for their housewarming, and he’d even gotten friendly enough to take Iwaizumi’s dog out for walks on a couple of occasions. He’d personally apologized to Kuroo and Bokuto and explained that music worsened his migraine. So it was weird to see him baring his teeth at the attractive bartender, who looked done with the whole situation.

“Yahaba, what’s the matter?” Iwa-chan asked.  
_That’s right,_ Oikawa remembered, _he’s Mattsun’s college junior who happens to work here._  
Yahaba ran a hand through his smooth hair and scowled at Kyoutani. “I was just being friendly and asking about him when he started threatening me.”  
“He was asking why I was scowling at a wedding that’s supposed to be a happy occasion,” Kyoutani gritted out, “How is it his business?”  
“Woah man,” Yahaba’s face became stormy, “I was just making small talk while fixing your drink, that’s all.”  
“Maybe you shouldn’t!” Kyoutani’s voice was becoming louder; a couple of guests turned around to stare.  
“And maybe,” Yahaba lowered his voice, “You shouldn’t drag in dirt on my senpai’s happy day, huh? I don’t really give a shit about you, but they’re getting married and don’t deserve to have it spoiled. If you ruin their mood you’ll have me to answer to.”  
Kyoutani blinked at him. “Aren’t you just here to make a quick buck on the weekend?”  
“I may be a shallow guy, but I respect those two.” Yahaba indicated the oblivious happy couple, “So keep it down and don’t fucking ask for another drink, you’re up to four already.”

Kyoutani wrenched away from Iwaizumi and walked away without another word.

Iwaizumi walked back to Oikawa, glass in hand. “That was close.” He muttered.  
“Good thing you were here to rein in the Mad Dog,” Oikawa murmured sweetly. His eyes narrowed at Kyoutani’s back, “Scuse me a minute, Iwa-chan.”  
“Oikawa...” Iwaizumi began, but was royally shushed. “He needs to learn how to deal with me if he’s going to live here.”  
“It’s like Alice in Wonderland and the Queen of Hearts!” Iwaizumi muttered. “If he doesn’t respond properly, will it be off with his head?”

  
Oikawa determinedly ignored that as he followed the bumblebee-head through the crowd and out into the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do an homage to that famous Kyoutani/Yahaba confrontation? idk if it worked lol. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2 – Of Those Who Found It, and Those Who are Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa changed tack immediately. “I always dress you up in manly garb–”  
> Iwa-chan snorted. “Like the Godzilla outfit?”
> 
> \---
> 
> Warning: Rated M for minor smut and discussions of sex. 
> 
> If you're not comfortable with the smut, skip the first couple of paragraphs of this chapter.

Daichi couldn’t quite remember how they’d ended up in the supply closet. Every time his brain attempted to form a coherent thought, Koushi’s tongue would do that thing to his palate and he’d lose track. One of his hands was currently exploring the white silk shirt beneath his husband’s jacket, and Koushi’s slender fingers tugged in his hair unforgivingly. There were noises, too, humming noises, pleading noises, panting breaths and _oh, oh, oh_. He vaguely realized his other hand was digging into Koushi’s cute, lithe butt. Everything about him was cute and lithe and so, so, sweet, from his silver tongue to his wicked smile to that little mole beside his left eye that Daichi wanted to kiss all the time. His want for Koushi was thrumming in his veins, _God_.

“So fucking sweet,” he muttered, finally moving away to mouth at Koushi’s jaw. Hurried fingers undid the paisley tie and Daichi sunk his teeth into that soft, soft skin below his collar. “God, Koushi, I want, I always want you, whatever you want, whatever you need–”  
The fact that Koushi wanted him just as much was, as far as Daichi was concerned, the best thing that had ever happened. “Mmm, Daichi, gimme, gimme–”  
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Kiss. “My hand?” Kiss. “My mouth?” Kiss. “Do you want my dick?” Daichi sucked on his tongue and Koushi whimpered. “I wanna suck your cock, god Dai, let me get you off. I’ll do it just how you like it–”  
 Daichi was so hard, and Koushi was pressing against his thigh, and Koushi’s hand was on his zipper and Daichi was going to _let_ him–

There were abrupt knocks on the closet door and someone cleared their throat on the other side. “Ah, whoever this is...um, you’re audible outside. This corridor kind of amplifies sound? Anyway, I’ll, uh, leave now so you can emerge without me seeing you. Try to, ah, keep it in your pants, yeah?”

They froze, trying not to shake or pant too loudly, as footsteps moved further away. Daichi was hiding his face in Koushi’s neck, and Koushi could _feel_ the warmth from his blush. The person’s shoes clacked heavily against the wooden floors in a distinctly familiar way. Koushi couldn’t help grinning. “I don’t know who’s more embarrassed about this, you or Kageyama.”  
Daichi grumbled, “It definitely isn’t _you_.”  
“We’re married, Dai. I’m pretty sure everyone doesn’t think we just nap together.”  
Daichi ignored that. “He’s become a lot more diplomatic, hasn’t he? Being around us is helping him.”  
Koushi nodded. “Kageyama’s a nice kid. Just socially awkward.”  
“Crazy good setter, though. I wish I’d played him in college.”  
“You’d have lost,” Koushi retorted, enjoying the glint that appeared in Daichi’s eyes.  
Daichi squeezed his hip. “You’re gonna pay for that tonight. After we put the kids to bed.”  
“Such a good father,” Koushi murmured, pecking him on the mouth one last time. “Now, help me straighten my tie.”

\---

Kageyama Tobio did not particularly like weddings. Sure, the food was good and the alcohol generous, but it meant milling about in a crowd with other people. He didn’t know many people here other than Daichi-san and Suga-san, and of course they were close to the couple and would be busy, so he’d sat with strangers through the whole ceremony and then plied himself with food and watched the dancing. Hanamaki-san and Matsukawa-san looked quite happy together; he wondered briefly what that would feel like. He knew his mother would say _Go out and say hello, Tobio. It’s how you make friends._

But he was wearing clothes that made him feel self-conscious, and he was feeling like he’d been invited out of politeness, and he hoped his present was something the couple would like, and he feared that if one more person made eye contact and flinched because _his resting face was scary_ , he might actually cry. He briefly wondered at his own pathetic train of thought, standing here feeling lonely when he was supposed to celebrate other people’s togetherness. And maybe it had something to do with hearing his long-married bosses going at it in a cupboard like a couple of teenagers, but he was trying to forget that bit.

He caught sight of an unruly orange head. Hinata. Normally he would have been less than pleased – they worked at the coffee shop together but he wasn’t sure if they were actually friends and not just colleagues. Usually the little shrimp irritated him, but at peak hours they synced surprisingly well when it came to fulfilling orders. And, well, Kageyama had been at this wedding for what felt like hours and he just wanted to be acknowledged by another human being.

“Hinata!” he called, and tried to school his expression into something more friendly. For some reason Hinata was afraid that Kageyama wanted to hit him all the time (it was only about twenty percent of the time, give or take) and, Kageyama realized belatedly, much more likely to flinch at him than the average person. _Please don’t flinch please don’t flinch please don’t flinch–_

Hinata took one look at him and flinched. Goddamnit. “K-kageyama! What are you doing here?”  
“I was invited here, dumbass.” He knew his face was rearranging itself into a scowl, but did Hinata think he was off-putting enough to not be invited? His heart sank.  
“Oh, of course,” Hinata mumbled, flushing. “Uh, sorry. Did you try the food?”  
Kageyama nodded. “Noya-san’s done a great job. There’s a lot of variety as well.”  
Hinata nodded. “Noya-san’s amazing. He’s supposed to be a great libero as well. Speaking of, does everyone in the complex play volleyball?”  
“Pretty much,” Kageyama confirmed, “But you should really watch out for Oikawa-san. He’s the best setter. That’s why I used to be on Ushijima-san’s team. It was fun to play against him.”  
“Really? He sets better than you?” Hinata asked, honestly surprised.  
Kageyama felt himself flushing. “He works really well with people and his game sense is pretty great. He used to play volleyball in college. It's a good opportunity to observe someone with a different style of play.”  
“You played volleyball _professionally_ ,” Hinata pointed out. “Then of course you chickened out.”  
Kageyama froze. “Who said I chickened out?”  
“Kuroo-san told me,” Hinata said boldly. “I can’t believe you decided to retire because of this little injury. You could be back on the court in six months.”  
Kageyama felt his blood boil. “You nosy little shrimp, I’ll show you a little injury...!”

And Hinata, being a short little shrimp, turned on his heel and ran. Kageyama knew he would be lost in the crowd immediately, even if he did give chase. He scowled as the loneliness rushed in again.

\---

 “Hey, Mad Dog-chan!” Oikawa called, and steeled himself against the belligerence in those amber eyes. He was half-tempted to ask the man about his eyeliner, which he’d perfected, but now was probably not the time. “What was with that display inside?”  
They were out on the lawn, the evening air leaving a chill on everything it touched, the sun had set long ago and the stars were out. Oikawa would have felt romantic if it hadn’t been, well, Kyoutani.  
“I couldn’t really talk to anybody,” Kyoutani muttered, “So I got a little stressed. Sorry.”  
Oikawa blinked, unprepared for so much honesty or verbosity. He almost admonished himself for assuming the worst, but then congratulated himself on not giving away his assumptions. “You could have spoken to me. Or Iwa-chan.”  
Kyoutani wrinkled his nose at that. “Iwaizumi-san was busy with you.”  
“We were just standing and talking. You could talk to both of us at the same time, you know.”  
Kyoutani looked away. “It’s not the same.” He fiddled with something in his pockets and took out a lighter and cigarette. Oikawa took that as his cue to leave. “Well, we’ll be inside. Come in and join us in some time, alright?” He awkwardly patted Kyoutani, who showed no reaction, and walked inside.

He was waved down by his brother, who looked a little flushed. Oikawa frowned. “You alright?”  
Koushi cleared his throat. “Perfect.” He was fiddling with his collar, and Oikawa’s eyes went wide when he saw the hint of red-purple just barely covered. “You horndogs!”  
“Shhh, not so loud!” Koushi pleaded, “If you draw attention to it he’ll never agree to it again!”  
“Damn right,” Oikawa muttered, too embarrassed to look at him. “What the hell, niichan?”  
“Sorry, Tooru.” Koushi had the grace to blush. “He’s so cute when he’s being all formal and proper. I couldn’t resist.”  
“Ugh, spare me. I hate you happy couples with your happy sex lives.”  
“And yet you introduced me to Daichi, remember?” Koushi raised eyebrows and sweetened his tone. Oikawa could see through him completely, but he’d hit on his weakness – his love for (gently, lovingly) dictating what people did. “You reintroduced Makkun and Matsu-kun as well.”  
“With help from Iwa-chan.”  
“Of course,” and here Koushi’s smile softened, “Hajime is a soul who must be treasured, no?”  
“Doesn’t everyone do that already?” Their parents loved Daichi, but somehow loved Iwaizumi even more. Something about keeping Oikawa out of trouble – Oikawa had no idea where they got that notion. Well, he had dragged Oikawa back to the dorm after drinking a few times, and he’d prevented him from pushing himself too hard, and he was always just _there_ when Oikawa needed him...

_Bam._

From his spot on the floor, Oikawa winced and discreetly rubbed his ass as he stared at an orange head. The owner of the head still had his face pressed to Oikawa’s chest. On second thought, he seemed pretty short, and Oikawa wondered if he’d seen any kids besides the twins here–

“ _I’m sorry!”_ The owner of the orange head blurted. His big brown eyes were looking at Oikawa now, a mixture of terror and embarrassment in them. “There was this really scary dude–”  
“And you ran?” Koushi seemed amused. “What are you, twelve?”  
The shrimp flushed pink, contrasting vividly with his hair. His voice was definitely mature, and his face seemed grown-up on second glance. “I’m twenty-three, Suga-san.”

Most people didn’t know that Sugawara Koushi was Oikawa’s cousin, and had been adopted into the family when his parents passed away. He never changed his surname as a sign of respect to them, but the only people whose nicknames for him derived from the surname were his co-workers – everyone else just called him Koushi. So the shrimp was his employee, and hadn’t Koushi mentioned inviting–

“The new barista!” Oikawa chirped, equilibrium restored as he stood up, “Hinata-kun, right?”  
“That’s me!” And Hinata flashed the most adorable smile Oikawa had ever seen. It was as sweet and unpolluted as the hills from where he’d come to the big city to find work (source: Koushi.) His eyes almost shut entirely and goodwill oozed from every pore. Oikawa had the sudden urge to smother him with stuffed toys and tea. He valiantly restrained himself and settled for petting Hinata on his (soft, soft, so _fluffy_ ) head.

“Niichan didn’t tell me how cute you are!” he gushed, and heard a throat being cleared beside him.  
Iwaizumi smiled at a bemused Hinata over his shoulder. “I heard you’re moving into Koushi-nii’s old place, so welcome to the neighbourhood. First tip, stay away from this guy before he drags you into his dress-up schemes.”  
“How did you even know–”  
Iwa-chan gave him the Don’t-Bullshit-Me-Oikawa Look #6. It was the look he had deemed suitable for social occasions.  
Oikawa changed tack immediately. “I always dress _you_ up in manly garb–”  
Iwa-chan snorted. “Like the Godzilla outfit?”  
“I was low on time and inspiration, okay, and you do grumpy-and-potentially-violent so well!”  
“This conversation is going nowhere.” Iwa-chan indicated their audience (Hinata looking befuddled, and Koushi looking unreasonably touched) and moved away. “I’m checking on the happy couple, they’ve been left unattended for about twenty minutes. Oh, and Koushi-nii, you might want to hide that mark before Daichi sees it.”  
  
They watched Iwaizumi walk away, and it took Oikawa a second to realize he wasn’t alone in admiring the fit of those grey pants.  
“Makkun chose well,” Koushi murmured beside him.  
“Aren’t you married to _Thighchi_?” Oikawa muttered, and Hinata giggled and goggled all at once.  
“Yes, men of the Iwaizumi family don’t skip leg day,” Koushi snickered. “It’s always kind of nice to watch them walk away.”  
“You have _children_ ,” Oikawa murmured, “Shouldn’t you be toning down this talk around them?”  
“Speaking of my children, Kusumi said she wants to marry Hajime when she grows up!” Koushi smirked. “She proposed to him at dinner the other night.”  
Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “Why didn’t he tell me? What did she say?”  
“She was so serious. She climbed into his lap, took his hand, looked deep into his eyes, and made him promise to wait.”  
“Oh my god,” Oikawa covered his face, “that is so cute. _So cute._ I might curl up into a ball and die.”  
“I’d be grateful to whoever causes that to happen,” Iwaizumi rejoined them, having heard only the last bit of that sentence. “The couple is safe, albeit a little buzzed. I told them they're cut off for tonight. They'll be fine by the time they reach the airport," he added at Oikawa's silent enquiry, "What are we discussing?”  
“Kusumi claiming your hand in marriage,” Oikawa bumped shoulders, “How did you react?”  
“What, was I supposed to say no? She’s four. Of course I said yes.” Iwaizumi gave him a shit-eating grin. “What really sealed the deal was her promising to protect me against your dress-up schemes-"  
“Iwa- _chaaaan_.” Oikawa whined almost reflexively, and Iwaizumi shoved a massive hand on his face to shut him up.

He didn’t notice the look of amusement on Koushi’s face, or the look of utter fascination on Hinata’s.

\---

“I want to do this again.” Oikawa announced abruptly at Makki and Mattsun’s flat that night.

The wine had been drunk, the leftover food had been packed and brought back, the happy couple had departed for Okinawa, the guests had dispersed after much dancing. It was 1.43 AM on a Saturday morning, and Oikawa wanted to sleep. He could feel the relief coursing through his veins, weighing down his bones. It had been fun, yes, but it had been _exhausting_. No wonder wedding planning was a career, one that Oikawa decided he wanted no more part of. He was with Iwaizumi, sorting through gifts as a last favour to the couple. (Makki had promised a supply of M &M blondies for six weeks when they got back. Their mutual kryptonite was sweets.)

“Do what?” Iwaizumi muttered, not looking up from where he tallied the gift cheques. He was a star auditor at his firm, and numbers were second nature to him. (Socializing wasn’t.) They were celebrating a job well done with the bottle Oikawa'd received from his boss last Christmas. Oikawa didn't know how, but alcohol simply didn't affect Iwa-chan's math skills.  
“Bringing people together!” Oikawa announced excitedly, waving his hands. His wine sloshed about in the glass. Maybe he'd had too much. “Just imagine if I were responsible for the next wedding as well!”  
Iwaizumi looked up. “Oikawa. It’s not good to meddle with people.”  
“Why?” Oikawa asked reasonably. “Look where it got Makki and Mattsun.”  
“Hiro and Issei worked out because they needed an excuse to be thrown together. If they hadn’t been inclined to date each other it wouldn’t have resulted in anything.”  
Oikawa stuck his tongue out and pulled one eyelid down. “Don’t be boring, Iwa-chan. You know I know what people are like.”  
“Yes, and you manipulate them assuming they have the same motivations as you. Which they don’t.” Iwa-chan said firmly.  
“You’re just being negative, Iwa-chan! I’m not going to listen to you!”  
“Do you ever?” Somehow it sounded more fond than annoyed.

They stayed silent for a minute. “Thank you.” Oikawa said suddenly.  
Iwaizumi blinked at him again. “For helping out so much with everything,” Oikawa explained hurriedly, “I mean it’s _me_ , so I probably could have managed–”  
“Managed to halfway kill yourself,” Iwa-chan muttered, and was promptly ignored.  
“–managed on my own, but we worked together to make them happy today. So, thank you.”  
“You’re welcome, Sillykawa,” Iwa-chan ruffled his hair, and his softened insult warmed Oikawa’s heart. “They did look really happy, though.”  
“They found it with each other didn’t they?”  
“Yeah. They found it.”  
“So did Daichi and Niichan.”  
“Well, yeah, but we’ve known that a while now.” A little line appeared between Iwa-chan’s brows. “You never told me how they met, though.”

Iwa-chan hadn’t heard because both their brothers had refused to tell him, and Oikawa had been too conscious about his own homosexuality, too absorbed in the newness of his revelation, to admit he frequented gay nightclubs. Not that Iwa-chan, who was comfortably bisexual, would ever have judged. Iwa-chan had gently inquired once or twice before letting it go. The subject hadn't come up since a couple of months of Daichi and Koushi being wedded, and Oikawa mentally smacked himself in the head. Had he actually _forgotten_? Forgotten to tell Iwa-chan, who he'd trust with his life? Sometimes (when he'd had this much wine) Oikawa disliked himself a little.

“You know Marco Polo, right? I was there with Daichi and we ran into Niichan."  
Iwa-chan accepted this information with his usual equanimity. "I guessed something along those lines, they were both so embarrassed about it when I asked."  
"And Daichi, being Dadchi, insisted on being introduced. And Niichan, being Kaa-san, couldn’t stop gushing about our team. And then tongues happened and I got out of there and came home like a good wingman."  
"So what you're saying is you set them up by accident."  
"...No."  
"Hell yes, Shittykawa. If I'd been there instead of Daichi-"  
"I am not letting you finish that sentence!"  
"Please, Koushi-nii isn't my type."  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"What, you think I don't know your brother was a bigger flirt than you in his prime? Daichi always goes for that kind, I don't. Koushi-nii may look like an angel but that's about it."  
"What about me? Do I look like an angel?"  
Iwaizumi pretended to consider this. "Do those ugly naked babies with the bows and arrows count?"  
"Iwa-chan, MEAN."  
"Or should I concentrate on the fact that you set your teammate up with your _brother-"  
"_ Hey, I thought Daichi was the slow-moving kind who'd wait till after the third date. I thought Niichan would be in good hands, you know?"  
"Maybe, but he's also adapted to new situations really easily since we were kids."  
"You’re no prude, either. You’ve been to Marco Polo, haven’t you?”  
Iwa-chan nodded. “Natsume took me there, once.”  
“Ah, Natsume the exhibitionist.” Oikawa murmured.  
Iwa-chan turned a wicked shade of red. “I didn’t know about that until we broke up and I saw him with Kuroo.” _Having sex on the stairs outside Kuroo's apartment_ went unsaid.  
Oikawa waved his hand, “Hey, I’m not judging. It was amusing to see your expression then. I could see the gears in your head turning–”  
“Shittykawa–”  
“ _Oh, was that why he always wanted the door unlocked and the window open while we did it?”_ Oikawa did a poor impression of Iwa-chan’s gruff voice and was smacked straight on the face with a cushion. He fell back cackling.  
“He actually did want the door open,” Iwa-chan admitted to the wine bottle, and Oikawa laughed even harder. He tried to sit up, fell the other way, collapsed against Iwa-chan, still laughing.  
“Tooru,” Iwa-chan said mildly, “You're drunk.”  
“And you’re the bestest,” Oikawa replied, beaming. “Someone should marry _you_ , Iwa-chan!”  
“Then find me someone, since you’re some great matchmaker supposedly.”  
Oikawa sat up and laughed again. “Don’t be ridiculous, Iwa-chan!”  
“Why not?” Iwa-chan looked taken aback, and Oikawa belatedly realized he’d sounded insulting. He rushed to clarify.  
“Because there’s no one _good_ enough for Iwa-chan, of course!”

And he slumped against that wonderfully muscled arm, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God that was my first attempt at smut, however brief. I can barely live with myself!
> 
> Kags an adorable cinnamon roll who should be protected at all costs. I know this is an AU but it wouldn't be Haikyuu without DaiSuga basically adopting Kagehina, ne?


	3. Chapter 3 – Of Friendships and Common Interests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ll be fine,” Hinata said, as if he’d sorted out his own life and was in a position to dispense advice. “Just send me a toss, Kageyama.”
> 
> \---  
> Rated G.

Somebody, somebody who was possibly, Oikawa decided, evil _personified_ , had opened the curtains to the morning. Bright sunlight streamed onto the bed, and Oikawa shoved his hair under a pillow in a vain attempt to block it out. His head throbbed a little, but that was to be expected. Reluctantly he pushed the pillow aside and blinked at the nightstand, where two aspirin and a glass of water had been laid out next to his glasses. He muttered a thank you to the gods and reached for them. Then he decided he was motivated enough to go brush.

When he padded into his kitchen after pulling on a T-shirt over his boxers, he saw Iwa-chan on the sofa, large mug of coffee in hand, reading the morning news on his tablet. He went to pour himself a cup, added milk and sugar and settled down next to Iwa-chan, not quite ready to speak. Instead he switched on his TV and put the volume on low, letting the buzz soothe him. There was some nature documentary talking about the mating habits of insects. A large queen bee crawled into view onscreen.  
“Oh, look, it’s you.” Iwaizumi said, and received a whack on the shoulder for his troubles.  
“What a mean thing to say first thing in the morning!”  
“It always cheers me up to deliver the first insult of the day.” Iwaizumi returned to his tablet. “I made oatmeal. Apple and cinnamon.”

Iwa-chan cooked well, it was just that he cooked basic, earthy meals rather than elaborate feasts. Didn’t have the most discerning palate, did Iwa-chan. He wouldn’t add a pinch of this or a dash of that just to experiment. He made excellent crockpot meals and traditional foods. About once a month, they’d make a traditional brunch on Sundays and gorge themselves on miso soup, tamagoyaki, pork cutlets, the works. Oikawa mentally pulled up his schedule for the weekend and decided tomorrow would do just fine for brunch. He opened the fridge, retrieved his orange juice, and added a note to the magnetized list on the door before he served himself.

He spooned the oatmeal up and down to cool it, and thought about how many routines Iwa-chan and he’d made over the years. Both of them knew what it was like to have occasional spikes of overtime at work, so they’d throw the other’s laundry in the machine and call both mums to reassure them. Both came from unorthodox families; Daichi and Iwaizumi had the same mother but different fathers, and Daichi’d retained his father’s name as well. It was what had drawn Daichi to Koushi when they’d been introduced back then. Among...other things. Oikawa was still impressed at the speed with which his brother had moved; he estimated fifteen minutes between hellos and Koushi grinding against a stunned Daichi on the dance floor, at which point Oikawa had made himself scarce.

He still remembered being the one to break the news to Iwaizumi, watching those grey eyes, confused at the suddenness but not judging, more hurt that he hadn’t been told, hadn’t been trusted. He remembered his own world tilting when Iwaizumi had said, “Tooru...I’m bi.” And he hadn’t been lying because _Hajime_ had never called him _Tooru_ before. He remembered sitting next to Iwaizumi as he’d called Daichi and growled “I know we don’t tell each other stuff but I cannot believe you thought I would _hate_ you over something like this!” and he remembered accompanying Iwaizumi to dinner at Koushi’s house the following weekend, armed with some droopy flowers and a carton of Koushi’s favourite chocolate-chip ice cream. He remembered how Daichi had cried, and Iwaizumi had flinched but stayed in his embrace. And he remembered how Iwaizumi had said, hesitantly, “I know you might have someone else in mind, but I’m offering to be the Best Man.”

And then gruff Iwaizumi, the crazy good wing spiker from his team, had gradually become Iwa-chan, his keeper and extended family. They'd welcomed their much-awaited nephew and niece four years earlier. They’d rented neighbouring flats when they started working after college. They’d decided to move into the flats at Aoba Johsai Apartments when they’d become more financially secure, and had spare keys to each other’s places. Which was how Iwa-chan, who’d gotten him into bed and then spent the night at his own place, had come over to Oikawa’s to make a shared breakfast. Because he knew Oikawa might not cook if he was hungover, and coffee with milk bread was not an adequate breakfast by his standards.

When he returned to the sofa, Iwaizumi had switched the TV to the business news. Apparently some large corporation had been caught committing tax fraud, and auditors at a rival firm to Iwaizumi's had been responsible for discovering it. Iwa-chan watched grimly as the CEO was led away in handcuffs. Oikawa knew that he’d help bring some serious frauds to light himself, and he wondered what it must be like for someone who found sense where he saw figures. He’d always been drawn to human nature, its tendencies and reactions, its volatility. And he’d learned to judge it well.

The program switched to a commercial break and Oikawa brightened. “Look, Iwa-chan! It’s our new project.” It was an ad for a unisex perfume, and Oikawa was very proud of it. He watched Iwaizumi, who watched the model on screen move through a variety of modes and outfits with such fluid ease that the audience couldn’t tell whether they were male or female or both or neither; just that they were undeniably erotic. He’d pushed really hard for it, staking his reputation and his other accounts on this project. It had turned out beautifully in the end. When the thirty seconds were over, Iwa-chan sat back and cleared his throat. “That was...nice.”

“Nice?” Oikawa asked innocently, and Iwa-chan flicked him on the forehead. “Of course I strive to be _nice_ whenever possible–”  
“ _Right._ ”  
Oikawa pointed at him. “Who am I not nice to?”  
“Kageyama,” Iwaizumi began ticking them off his fingers, “You don’t particularly like Ushijima. You could be friendlier to Akaashi. You tease Kindaichi too much–”  
“I’m friends with them, Iwa-chan, that’s how it works. Besides you insult me all the time–”  
“Yeah but that doesn’t hurt you ego one bit, it’s water off a duck’s back.”

Any further conversation was halted as Iwaizumi’s phone rang. His eyes widened as he saw who it was. “Hello, Aone-san?”

Oikawa had met Aone a couple of times. He was Iwaizumi’s colleague at the office, a towering hulk who moved with silence and a surprising grace when it suited him. Oikawa wondered what Aone’s voice would sound like. Probably rusty with disuse, he decided. He was always hanging around with his supervisor, Moniwa, who often spoke for him. There was only one reason Aone would be calling Iwaizumi on a Saturday – there was some urgent work, and his workaholic best friend was the only one who’d agree to go. Oikawa sighed.

Iwa-chan ended the call and turned to him, “That was the office–”  
“Go, hurry and change,” Oikawa waved a hand to shoo him away. “We’re doing brunch tomorrow, it’s my turn to buy the ingredients. We finished sorting all the gifts and checks last night. There’s no reason Iwa-chan should stay here.”  
Iwa-chan hesitated. “I wanted to go to the library with you today.”  
“Plenty of time after brunch tomorrow. Besides, I need to do laundry, and we were going to play a match and have a late lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow, Iwa-chan.”  
“See you tomorrow.”

Iwa-chan left, and Oikawa switched on his stereo and played K-pop while he loaded the machine, dusted the display shelves and put Makki and Mattsun’s gifts into boxes in his spare bedroom. He needed to give his and Iwa-chan’s suits for laundering, call Asahi at the wedding venue to ensure there were no damages and that the couple would get their deposit back, and also he was pretty sure something had to be done about the leftover food they’d carted into Iwa-chan’s apartment. He decided their volleyball group would take care of that. He wanted to call his brother, because Koushi was the only one who’d listen to the entire wedding debrief that was sitting on the back of Oikawa’s mind. He wanted to send a thank-you note to Kenma who’d also created a smaller gluten-free cake, unprompted, because he’d heard that some of Makki’s family had celiac disease. Then he wondered if he shouldn’t send one to Akaashi as well, and decided that he shouldn’t (he wasn’t being petty, he wasn’t.) He should also call Kuroo and Bokuto because he wanted to create a vinyl of the wedding playlist, because Makki and Mattsun were secretly either hipsters or flower children who had access to the fountain of youth.

He sent a quick text on the volleyball group.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Morning! (◕ᴗ◕✿) Whoever wants leftovers from the wedding can drop by at my  place for lunch! Don’t forget to bring your own plates! (╯✧▽✧)╯

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Shittykawa, save me some.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Iwa-chan, being fat will beget you no romantic favours, you know! (≧◡≦)

 **Akaashi Keiji:** Iwaizumi-san is hardly fat, though.

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** Haha Iwaizumi, let’s see if Kuroo and I can leave some for you ;p

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** Ohohohohoho :D :D :D

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** Ohohohohohoho B) B) B)

 **Ushijima Wakatoshi:** I will be glad to accept your invitation, Oikawa.

 **Kyoutani Kentarou:** OK for the match but no thanks i wont be eating lunch

**Hanamaki Takahiro sent a picture.**

**Hanamaki Takahiro:** Do our wedding leftovers still look good, peasants? MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA

 **Oikawa Tooru:** You’re drinking before lunch? ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ)

 **Matsukawa Issei:** It’s our honeymoon, Oikawa. We’re allowed.

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Clearly Iwaizumi isn’t there to teach you manners.

 **Matsukawa Issei:** Is he in the office again?

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** Hey, I don’t mention your drinking, you don’t mention my job.

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** Thank you for defending my waistline, Akaashi-kun.

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** Bokuto and Kuroo are welcome to it, seeing as you were playing music the entire evening.

 **Matsukawa Issei:**...you’re in the office aren’t you.

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** If we didn’t know that white-haired hulk isn’t your type we’d say he seduces you into it.

 **Matsukawa Issei:** That and he’s always with that dark-haired guy who’s the type of person Oikawa pretends to be.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** That’s a MEAN thing to say to your wedding planner (ಥ﹏ಥ)

 **Oikawa Tooru:** So anyway, that’s a yes on the lunch right? ٩(◕‿◕)۶

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** Ohohohohohohoho

 **Bokuto Koutarou:** Ohohohohohohoho

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Taking that as a yes!

 **Akaashi Keiji:** You’re welcome, Iwaizumi-san.

 **Akaashi Keiji:** Oikawa-san, I am afraid I will not be joining you.

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Man Akaashi you’re cold.

 **Matsukawa Issei:** I thought your heart was made of gold

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I thought you and I were close

 **Matsukawa Issei:** But your heart is like a little black rose.

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Rose because he owns a flower shop?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You’re so smart Issei

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Make love to me! (❤ω❤)

 **Iwaizumi Hajime:** Enough, you two. Go eat something solid. Akaashi-kun, don’t mind them.

 **Akaashi Keiji:** Not at all, Iwaizumi-san. Hanamaki-san and Matsukawa-san are quite amusing.

 **Kuroo Tetsurou:** Akaashi is stone fucking cold.  
  
**Kindaichi Yuutarou:** Kunimi and I have to go out somewhere, thank you for the invitation Oikawa-san!

 **Oikawa Tooru:** We’re meeting in 15 minutes, right? See you guys there!

\---

It had been difficult, initially. Kageyama had been playing volleyball since he was seven, and hadn’t stopped until he was twenty-four and a series of terrible coincidences had resulted in the accident. A break in the wrist. He, who was part of the national _team_ , had a break in his wrist. The doctor had told him he’d need two to three months to heal fully, and then physical therapy, and even then he might not be back to a hundred percent. He set the ball with both hands, of course; a major difference in strength between both hands meant having to recalibrate his tosses, which basically meant relearning everything he’d spent his life trying to perfect.

He’d gone underground after that. Thankfully he didn’t have anything to spend on outside of volleyball, so his savings had accumulated over the years. He didn’t even realize - until the valet had carried his duffel bag into his living room after the hospital stay - that he hadn’t bothered to decorate his flat. It had his futon, kitchen appliances, a washing machine and some semblance of a cooking setup. That had been enough for him then. He’d religiously gone for physical therapy, but refused calls from his coach, his agent, even the president of the Japanese Volleyball Association. After all, he was one of the top setters in the V-league, it was natural to enquire on his progress. But the thought of returning only to not match up to his previous self - Kageyama would rather retire entirely.

It had been his coach from high school, in the end, who’d asked him about his choices. Coach Fuki had knocked insistently at his door until he’d been let in, promptly prepared chamomile tea, and started talking.  
“I know you think you won’t be up to full strength, and you’re wondering if you’re of any use to the team. To be blunt, right now you’re not. But this is only till your wrist heals. You’re still young and extremely experienced; you can be back to top form in under a year.” Here the coach paused. “Or you can take longer. But in any case I’d say use your free time wisely.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Coach looked meaningfully around the bare flat. “Irihata-sensei is an old friend of mine. He told me you actually _bought_ the flat from him when you moved in. A rented place I can excuse for looking temporary. This has been your home for two years now. Shouldn’t it be reflective of who you are?”  
Kageyama’d snorted. “Coach, I only come here to eat and sleep. You know that.”  
“Came,” the coach corrected. “You only _came_ here to eat and sleep–”  
“I play volleyball with the other residents!” Kageyama protested, and Coach winced.  
“Now you’ll be stuck here for the next ten weeks at least, ne? You’re twenty-four, Kageyama. I’d say it’s a good time for you to start thinking about life beyond volleyball.” He added, gently teasing, “Your many fans would be shocked to realize the King of the Court lives like an hermit even though this flat is nice and spacious.”  
“It’s a penthouse,” Kageyama said automatically. The building had four wings surrounding a courtyard, and there was a penthouse on the top floor of each wing.  
“And it’s disturbingly empty,” the coach agreed, “So use your recuperation time to go out and explore the world around you. Stay safe, but learn something. Your identity can’t revolve around volleyball forever.”

A couple of weeks later, when sitting still had become too much for him, Kageyama impulsively walked in to interview for a job at The Crow and the Coffee Pot, drawn in by the whimsical adaptation of the children’s tale which took up one of the shop windows. He’d met a nice-looking, prematurely grey man, and his broad, authoritative and kind husband. He’d stammered his way through questions about work experience ( _“I used to play in the V-league.” “...so, you’ve never used an espresso machine before._ ”), availability ( _“Do you have any other weekly commitments?” “Just my physical therapy sessions._ ”) and his life in general (“ _Do you have any hobbies apart from volleyball?” “...no” “...do you have any friends outside of volleyball?” “...no.”_ ) and somehow at the end of it all, they’d looked at each other and decided, in unison, to hire him.

Kageyama liked Saturdays. He’d negotiated with Suga-san and Daichi-san to get his weekends half off, instead of having his full Sunday off. Which meant he didn’t have a big empty day in his calendar to fill with something, but he could relax and do his chores. He’d recently transitioned to cooking Western food, and he was thinking of getting the ingredients for pizza tonight. Which was why Kageyama was in the coffee shop at ten forty-five am, telling Hinata his story as he prepared to hand over to Ennoshita. He’d been there since seven, because he was exactly the kind of person who woke up at six on all days of the week. Ennoshita, on the other hand, was a normal man who preferred to wake up late and make love to his new wife before heading in to his part-time job. Kageyama knew this because he made the mistake of asking why Ennoshita preferred to have his time blocked off in the afternoon instead of at the beginning of the day. He also knew what Ennoshita’s wife looked like (Ennoshita had a picture in his wallet, which was so fucking _ordinary_ and normal and healthy Kageyama wanted to hit him) which did not help him in his quest to stop _picturing them having sex._

“What are you thinking?” Hinata asked him, because he liked to power through the occasional lull with idle chatter.  
“Nothing,” Kageyama said, but relented, “I was wondering what to make for dinner.”  
“You can cook well?” Hinata asked wistfully, “I can cook...it’s just, it doesn’t taste like anything special, you know?”  
“I kind of took it up as a hobby after the wrist,” Kageyama admitted. “Besides, don’t you live with Kenma?”  
“Yeah,” Hinata admitted, “Most days he brings sandwiches and stuff from the bakery and we just make up a salad and add some meat and curry to the thing. It’s not the greatest but it’s healthy.”  
“I usually just cook three days’ worth of food at once and freeze it.” Kageyama said, “I like it better when it’s fresh, but making it daily is a pain in the ass. Plus my calorie intake isn’t what it used to be.”  
“Because you don’t play anymore,” Hinata prompted. Then he added, deceptively casual, “I was going to go over to the courts now. Suga-san said Oikawa-san and everyone should be playing.”  
Kageyama cringed at Oikawa’s name. “Oikawa-san doesn’t exactly like me, you know.”  
“That’s strange,” Hinata said, “He was incredibly nice to me the other day.”  
Kageyama didn’t doubt it. The shrimp was exactly the kind of person most people would be nice to – friendly, enthusiastic, innocently generous with praise. Hinata enthused over everything and anything, even Kageyama. Oikawa-san’d probably heard one compliment and decided to adopt him.

“Are you two heading over to the court?” Suga-san asked from behind them. He was wearing his pink Crow and the Coffee Pot apron and carried tongs in one hand. “Tooru and company should be playing there about now. Your wrist has fully healed, right Kageyama?”  
“Yes,” said Kageyama, and flexed it experimentally.  
“Well then, aren’t you hankering to be back on the court?” Suga-san shooed them away as Ennoshita came from the kitchen, wearing a matching apron. “Off you go, you should be able to catch at least one set!”  
Kageyama didn’t want to admit his heart was thundering. He’d not touched a ball in six months. What if he’d forgotten to play _entirely?_ What if he made an ass of himself? _What if the shrimp beat him?_  
“Scared at the prospect of playing against me?” Hinata jeered. “Don’t worry, Frazzleyama, we’ll play on the same team, okay!”  
Kageyama watched him scurry away and mentally shook himself. _You played for the_ National team. _One little set won't hurt._

\---

Oikawa looked across the net at Akaashi, who was wiping his face with his shirt. Iwaizumi’s words flashed in his mind. _You could be friendlier._  
Could he? Possibly. But he didn’t really want to, for reasons he refused to examine. Akaashi was a competent setter; he analyzed the players' positions and took advantage of the serve rotations. He was definitely using his ace to his utmost. Oikawa could detect Bokuto silently fuming as Ushijima delivered yet another spike off that steady setting. Even Kuroo’s blocking wasn’t a match for an Ushiwaka armed with a perfect toss. The guy was long-retired from volleyball (he’d played with Koushi in college, so that made him thirty-six or thereabouts) but he was still ridiculously fit and tall, even if the most exercise he got at his job was getting up from his writing desk to go get lunch.

Oikawa had read all of his books because Daichi liked them and bought them, and he had to admit, Ushijima Wakatoshi was blessed in life. He’d gone from a successful volleyball career to a successful career as a sports journalist. His writing style, much like his playing, had no elegance, but a sort of hard-hitting beauty that made one’s eyes stay on the page till the last word. Oikawa could weave a sentence that would enchant a viewer into buying a soft drink; Ushijima could lay bare the truth behind the rigours of professional sport, and do it with no judgement or bias in his tone. A prominent Japanese player from the English Premier League had asked him to help co-author an autobiography, and Ushijima was supposed to fly out to meet the guy soon. Oikawa wondered at that, because while Ushijima was certainly fluent in Japanese, his English wasn’t quite as good. They’d probably need a translator for the English version.

He blew out a breath as they lost the first set 24-26. Bokuto was still fired up at Ushijima, who was looking at him with considerable challenge. Kuroo was panting, but happy, his tongue lolling and his cat-like eyes narrowed across the net. Kindaichi, their other middle blocker, was talking to the opposing wing spiker, his flatmate Kunimi.  Kyoutani was respectfully listening to what Akaashi had to say, and wasn’t that just _perfect_? Bokuto switched to audibly grumbling and Oikawa felt his voice go into _saccharine but deadly_ territory as he comforted him, saying he'd win the next set. Just when he thought the tension would escalate into an argument with the capricious owl, Hinata and Kageyama tumbled into the court, pushing each other like kids.

“Hey, Oikawa-san,” Hinata shouted, and Kageyama blinked at them. “Ossu.”  
Oikawa gave him his best fake smile. “Tobio-chan! It’s been so long! I didn’t see you at the wedding. Hello, Hinata-kun," he added much more warmly.  
“I-I was at the wedding,” Kageyama said stiffly, “I saw this dumbass.”  
“I convinced him to come play here today,” Hinata grinned proudly, "Suga-san said you wouldn't mind us joining in."  
Kageyama flushed a little. “I thought I would see what it was like, picking up a ball after so long.”  
“You’ll be fine,” Hinata said, as if he’d sorted out his own life and was in a position to dispense advice. “Just send me a toss, Kageyama.”  
Oikawa (and the others, he suspected) resisting pointing out to Hinata that he’d never played with them earlier and it was in fact his first time here, but he picked up the volleyball nearby and began spinning it on his finger, perfectly comfortable. Oikawa could have come up with an excuse, but he couldn't be petty, especially when he saw how nervous Kageyama was. Even he knew it had taken a lot out of the kid to even ask if he could play with a bunch of old men from his neighbourhood, after having played internationally. “Warm up, but would you mind playing four-on-four, Tobio-chan? I’d understand if you don’t feel up to it.” He added solicitously.  
“Um–”  
“I’m leaving now,” Akaashi interrupted smoothly. “I understand you’re a setter, Kageyama-kun. Please feel free to play in my place.”  
“I’m leaving as well,” Kyoutani muttered, “The shorty can play in my place.”  
“I have a name!” Hinata puffed up like an orange-headed cockatoo, “Hinata Shouyou! I work with Kageyama! And you are?”  
“Whatever,” Kyoutani muttered, pushing past him.  
“ _Whatever_ ’s the name you’ll see on your cup if you come to Suga-san’s cafe again!”  
The kid needed to work on his threats, Oikawa mused. Not everyone was blessed with a face like Kageyama’s, after all. The kid scowled on autopilot.  
“I have much to do today,” Ushijima intoned mildly, “So maybe we should proceed with the next set. We don’t have much time before that lunch happens.”  
“That’s right!” Bokuto boomed, “I want to defeat Wakatoshi-kun at least in this next set!”  
“Kunimi and I would like to play another set,” Kindaichi reported.

“There you have it,” Kuroo said, grinning sharply even as his eyes analyzed Hinata and Kageyama’s form and made calculations, “Everyone wants to play with Sylvester and Tweety. So hurry up and join in!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ennoshita, of course he had to be "the normal one" here :D
> 
> \---  
> Minor Manga Spoiler: Shout-out to Coach Fuki from Chapter 210!


	4. Chapter 4 - Of Assumptions and Clarifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa peered back at him, birdlike. It was...cute. Oikawa was cute.
> 
> “Are you and Iwaizumi dating?”

They were actually _losing._

Oikawa glanced at the blackboard which was serving as a scoreboard. He had Ushijima Wakatoshi on their team, and they were trailing 13-15. How was this possible?

Across the net, Hinata and Kageyama exchanged a hi-five; Hinata was beaming, and Kageyama’s expression was whatever passed for happy on his face. It had taken them less than fifteen minutes of coordination to come up with that insane quick. Oikawa wasn’t even aware that Hinata could play volleyball, let alone that _well._ It turned out he’d narrowly missed getting a sports scholarship in college, and had stuck with it throughout. Oikawa had to give it to the kid; he had fortitude, pursuing a sport just for the love of it.

From what Koushi had told him, Hinata was subletting from Kenma while working in the coffee shop and trying to find a gallery to put up his artwork. Hinata was a sculptor, though he couldn’t imagine someone less likely to dedicatedly work on something. Hinata specialized in wooden miniature figurines, and he tried to imagine the shrimp with a jeweller’s glass affixed to one eye, working for hours on items barely the size of his finger. He decided he’d ask to look at Hinata’s pieces and maybe even purchase some for his place. Try as he might, he couldn’t resist the little bundle of enthusiasm. He was so cute and friendly, just the type to make another Oikawa a few years in the future. The prospect cheered Oikawa up immensely.

Next to him, Kunimi was decidedly less enthusiastic. “Oikawa-san, aren’t they a little overpowered?”

Oikawa considered this. They’d all assumed the shrimp would be good, but what he hadn’t expected was _how_ well he worked with Kageyama. Kageyama, for his part, had the gall to play like he hadn’t _dropped out of the sport_ six months ago, his tosses both fast and accurate. He was tossing to Bokuto at frequent intervals, but even the happy-go-lucky guitarist knew that he wasn’t the star of the show right then. He was, of course, happy to have some prospect of defeating Ushijima, and chattered happily at Kindaichi. Kindaichi, for his part, was trying to look happy but not _too_ happy out of consideration for Kunimi, who rarely showed emotion but _hated_ to lose.

Oikawa thought to himself that he would have hated, hated the prospect of losing at one point, but today he was more concerned about the fact that Kageyama couldn’t quite stop looking at Hinata in a manner that was both surprised and harried, like a tomcat reacting to a puppy. No, Oikawa decided, that analogy was too cute for someone like Kageyama, and he would think up something suitably insulting later on. But he liked Hinata, and the prospect of the shrimp and Kageyama dating made him want to cringe. He could do so much _better._

He looked to Kuroo, was standing apart from everyone else, surveying the court with his predatory eyes. Oikawa knew appearances could be misleading; for example, Kenma’s cool behaviour and dislike for social situations masked the fact that he was a sweetheart who was kind to people he liked (case in point: Hinata) and animals. Kuroo, on the other hand, was exactly what it said on the tin: cunning, clever, a bit of a provocation expert. He appraised everyone carefully and then decided how best to fluster them or throw them off their game.

Like that _Sylvester and Tweety_ comment for example. Oikawa hadn’t missed how taken aback Kageyama had been at being lumped in with Hinata from the get-go. After all, Kageyama may have been a team player at the national level, but he never really got along with anyone here, even though he’d been living in the apartments nearly as long as Oikawa had. He’d introduced himself briefly, resisted all invitations to parties and gatherings. He’d disappear on national team duty and reappear on Saturday and Sunday, whenever they were playing. His flat was the closest to the gym, so he could hear them playing, apparently. Oikawa thought some creepy sixth sense alerted him every time a volleyball was hit, but he wasn’t too keen on finding out. 

Kuroo walked over to Oikawa. “How about, if Shorty goes for a crazy broad, you leave him to me? Leave my field of vision open, stick to blocking what you can with Kunimi. They still have Bokuto there, though he seems mellow.”  
“Distracted is the word you’re looking for,” Oikawa corrected. “He’s not even concerned with the fact that Tobio-chan isn’t tossing to him as much as to Hinata-kun. Anyway, I’ll tell Kunimi-chan and Ushiwaka-chan.”  
He relayed Kuroo’s idea to the other two, who accepted without comment. It was his turn to serve, so he took his position and sent it straight and fast. Hinata received the serve with little finesse, but it somehow made it back up. Kageyama planted his feet, jumped and tossed the ball...

Straight past Kindaichi’s point of impact. Kindaichi swatted at empty air and landed clumsily before turning around to squawk at him. “Oi, Kageyama, what the hell was that?”  
For a second Oikawa thought he would be paid back in kind, but Kageyama seemed more angry at himself than at Kindaichi. “I’m sorry,” he said, and _bowed_ , “That was a terrible toss and I do not expect you to deal with my failings.”  
Kindaichi immediately looked flustered. “No, no, I’m fine, it wasn’t that bad. I understand, people make mistakes sometimes.” Oikawa was fairly sure he could _hear_ Kunimi roll his eyes.

They’d scored the point, making it 14-15. Oikawa served again, putting a little more force into it. Kindaichi called it and sent it to Kageyama again, who tossed it perfectly to Bokuto this time. Ushijima received it and it went back to Oikawa, who set up a quick with Ushijima that took their opponents by surprise. They were now tied, and Hinata apparently talked Kindaichi into letting him block Ushijima, because Kindaichi moved to cover Kuroo and Kunimi instead. It was comical to see Hinata standing in front of Ushijima, who has was at least a foot taller and twice as broad. Ushijima looked down and seemed to notice him for the first time, if the way he blinked was any indication. Hinata seemed a little nervous, but then Ushijima could cut an imposing figure.

Oikawa idly wondered about setting the two of them up. It was the age-old match of the grizzled veteran and the ingénue who he’d take under his wing. The age difference definitely gave him pause for a second, but Ushijima was in great shape (which Oikawa knew because he went to the same gym as Iwa-chan.) Opposites always attracted, right? Hinata’s sunny energy would be nicely offset by Ushijima’s grounded quietude. Hinata was ridiculously cute, with his bright hair and eyes and smile. Ushijima wasn’t conventionally attractive by any means, but he had a magnetic personality. Oikawa didn’t exactly like him, but he respected the guy’s skill and his absolute hard work. It had to go beyond natural talent or the Midas touch. Hinata would benefit from being with someone who had so much wisdom and guidance to offer, rather than Tobio, who was too young and reckless.

He would seriously consider setting them up, Oikawa decided. It wouldn’t be too hard. All Oikawa would have to do would be spark interest on both sides. A little push should be enough for Hinata, with his openness, to consider Ushijima. And it went without saying that Ushijima Wakatoshi was a man who knew what he wanted, and did not hesitate to reach for it.

\---

Ushijima Wakatoshi was a man who knew what he wanted, and did not hesitate to reach for it. Currently, though, he was in limbo about actually wanting – an active desire rather than a passing fancy. The object of his consideration was talking to Kuroo, gesturing and smirking knowingly at something the other said. Then he laughed outright, showing perfect teeth, and Ushijima decided that if it was a fancy, it was a rather strong one.

He had known Oikawa since he’d moved into the apartment block about twenty-nine months ago, give or take. At first he’d assumed Oikawa and Iwaizumi were a couple, but then he’d realized that they were living in neighbouring apartments and not, in fact, living together as he’d assumed. They seemed nice enough – Iwaizumi was, as far as Ushijima was concerned, an upstanding man and a rival to be respected. He helped with neighbourhood cleanups and was helpful enough to point out people's bad form.

But it seemed strange that someone who seemed to share Ushijima’s preference for straight talk and honest action would choose to spend his time with Oikawa, who was definitely skilled at his job but seemed to waste time and energy on frivolous things. It no doubt appealed to people – his creativity, constant cheerfulness and surprising perceptiveness had won him many friends in their apartment complex. As far as Ushijima knew, the only one who Oikawa wasn’t on good terms with was Kageyama. Even Kyoutani grudgingly got along with Oikawa, though he very obviously preferred Iwaizumi. Ushijima had often wondered how Iwaizumi bore the constant stream of chattering, the childish nicknaming, the dramatic outbursts. From what he’d heard, the two were longtime friends ever since their brothers had been married. He’d always thought of the old adage _You can’t choose your family._ Recently though, he decided he’d got an inkling of what made Iwaizumi stay.

Since Oikawa had moved in, Ushijima had seen him with a couple of men he’d dated at the time, usually heading out or going back in to his apartment. They’d been unmemorable, but at least he knew Oikawa swung that way. He’d absently catalogued Oikawa as attractive in his head – lean and graceful, appealing face, nice hair – but eventually it had gone beyond that when he noticed Oikawa’s hypnotic gaze. Ushijima had realized his people skills weren’t just a combination of looks and approachability – he _noticed_ things, catalogued people and toned his responses accordingly. If Ushijima had been a cynical man, he would have said Oikawa was manipulative, but mostly he seemed adaptable and smart.

Not to mention, the man set fantastically. Akaashi was definitely a skilled setter, competent and highly analytical, but Oikawa handled the ball with a smoothness that outclassed him. He was constantly passing instructions on how to deal with their opponents, particularly Kageyama and Hinata. Ushijima knew that Kageyama had seemingly quit volleyball six months previously, but he was a respected sports journalist and he didn’t earn the trust of players and teams by exposing the location of people who did not want to be found.

So even though he was very curious, especially with the way Kageyama was tossing to Hinata (he’d been off the court for six months, but even at his worst, his form was no laughing matter) he let it rest. In any case, both Hinata and Kageyama were a little rough around the edges. Now that Oikawa and Kuroo had hit upon a strategy to stop Hinata’s quick, both he and Kunimi were spiking regularly. Kageyama then began tossing to Bokuto, Hinata and Kindaichi with equal regularity, but in the end Oikawa called one of Kageyama’s sets to Hinata, Kuroo and Kunimi blocked him perfectly, and their team won 32-30.

Ushijima watched as Oikawa high-fived Kuroo and Kunimi, and then Oikawa held his hands out to Ushijima, so he high-fived them to be polite. Oikawa was sweaty but smiling, just a little smug. He looked at Kageyama and stuck out his tongue before ruffling Hinata’s hair and commending him. He also patted Kunimi and Kindaichi on the shoulder, and then cautiously approached Bokuto, who was fuming. Ushijima couldn’t hear what Oikawa said, but ten minutes later Bokuto was nodding in a resigned kind of way. It was a very powerful skill, Ushijima reflected, to know how to talk to people right, and Oikawa wielded it with ease.

It only cemented his conviction that they would make a good team both on and off the court. He would do the right thing and ensure that he was not encroaching on Iwaizumi’s territory, and then he would make his move.

\---                                                                                                                                          

Oikawa was feeling his exhaustion rather more than he had expected; Kageyama and group had put up a good fight. As he trudged up to his apartment (they’d agreed to wash up at their own places and meet at his in fifteen) for a quick shower before setting up the table, he thought of ways to cheer up Bokuto. He _liked_ the owl, despite how annoying he could be – he was genuinely enthusiastic and encouraging with everyone, and managed to inspire even his rivals to put up a good fight. Bokuto was on par with Ushijima – indeed, they’re scored around the same number of points overall today – and he wasn’t used to losing two sets in a row. Even his hair had been drooping a little as Kuroo and he’d gone back to their place. Well, Oikawa hoped Kuroo would cheer him up – the two had been friends for a long time. If all failed, Oikawa would chat with him for a bit. He was easy to distract, after all, and a few reassuring words and maybe an extra helping of dessert wouldn’t hurt.

He set the rice to cook and had a quick shower before returning to examine the contents of his fridge. Iwa-chan, being Iwa-chan, had distributed the food into several Tupperware containers (that they’d ostensibly bought together, but only Iwa-chan ever used them) and labelled them with post-its. It was mostly Western food – pasta, salads, finger foods. There was chilled red bean soup that he left as it was and some curry and pork cutlets that he set to reheat in a skillet. There was also a load of leftover cake (chocolate ganache) and half a carton of Oikawa’s preferred strawberry ice-cream. It was definitely a hodgepodge sort of meal, but nobody would complain about free food. He ran a hand through his hair, realized it was frizzy as all get-out, and went to get some hair cream before anyone arrived to deride his state.

The door opened without any knocking, and Iwa-chan’s head appeared. “Oi, Trashykawa, is there enough for everyone?”  
“Of course! You’re back early, Iwa-chan. Now come help me ladle it out.”  
Iwa-chan shucked off his shoes in the entryway, draping his jacket over one of Oikawa’s chairs as he crossed the living room, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. They chatted about Iwa-chan’s work while he redistributed the food into the serving bowls and Oikawa mixed in some fresh sauce and grated cheese on to the pasta to make sure it wasn’t too dry. Oikawa mentioned Bokuto’s mood and Iwaizumi promised to help get him out of it. They set out plates, cutlery and disposable chopsticks and Oikawa arranged it all to look as neat as possible. As an afterthought Oikawa brought out the multicoloured glass vase his office colleagues had gifted him for his last birthday and made it the centrepiece.

“I can see why they gave you this,” Iwaizumi mused, “You both give off the same vibe.”  
Oikawa struck and pose and fluttered his lashes at Iwaizumi. “Vibrant and attractive?”  
“Tacky and ostentatious,” Iwaizumi corrected, and grinned at Oikawa’s overdramatic pout.  
“I should have known better than to expect a compliment from _you_ , Iwa-chan!”  
“Yeah, you should have. I’m gonna go change since we have time,” he added.  
“Oh, Iwa-chan, some of your clothes are left over from the last batch of laundry. You can wear those.”

Iwaizumi went into the guest room where Oikawa usually left his laundered clothes, and Oikawa hummed to himself as he hung up Iwa-chan’s jacket on the hooks behind the door. He stepped out on to his balcony and gasped as he realized he hadn’t watered the plants that day. He was sprinkling a little plant food in the pots that needed it as the doorbell rang. “It’s open,” he called, and the door swung open to reveal Ushijima’s hulking form. Oikawa was by no means short, but Ushijima still seemed huge as he ducked to enter. “Hullo, Oikawa,” he greeted in his deep voice. Kenma had once said that Ushijima’s voice sounded like the mob boss in one of his games, and the memory made Oikawa giggle.

“Ushijima-san,” Iwaizumi greeted from inside. He was still slipping on his henley, apparently having come to answer to the door first. Oikawa stole a glance at his (godly) abs while he couldn’t see before turning to Ushijima, and was a little unnerved to find Ushijima watching _him._ “I hope you like Western food, Ushiwaka-chan!” he said brightly to tide over the awkwardness, “There’s a lot of pasta, but there’s rice if you don’t like that.”  
“Anything is fine,” Ushijima said politely, and began describing the match to Iwaizumi, who was towelling his hair. Oikawa envied him – he never did anything to it, not even applying hair gel, yet it would stay spiky and shiny black at all times, unlike Oikawa who had a monthly haircare routine planned to keep his locks staying perfect.

Oikawa returned to his balcony to cut some of the yellow camellias, still blooming even though spring was around the corner. He added water to the vase and placed the blooms in them. Just as his fingers twitched with impatience to _do_ something even though nothing needed doing, the rest of them arrived. Kuroo and Bokuto dragged Kenma in, Kuroo holding him by the collar like a kitten by its scruff.  
“Kenma-chan!” Oikawa exclaimed, and Kenma looked up from his phone and said, voice smooth and even, “Hello, Tooru. I invited myself for lunch. I hope you don’t mind.”  
“Of course not,” Oikawa said. “Come on, we can eat while it’s still hot.”

They all sat down and said thanks for the food before digging in. Iwaizumi and Ushijima formed a sort of ace trio with Bokuto and were encouraging him to narrate his exploits, and Oikawa sent him a grateful look. Kuroo was chatting to Oikawa and occasionally prodding Kenma to eat.  
“How long have you guys been friends?” Oikawa asked him after watching a particularly amusing exchange which ended in a pork cutlet being carefully split between the two.  
“We were neighbours when we were kids,” Kenma said, looking away from his phone for the third time that afternoon. “We moved to different high schools, though.”  
“He didn’t follow in my footsteps,” Kuroo added mock-mournfully, and Kenma made a face at him.  
“We happened to reconnect when he moved here,” Kuroo continued, and smiled gently at Kenma.

Oikawa considered this. He wasn’t very close to Kenma, but he’d been shocked to see he was a baker. He couldn’t imagine that small, lethargic frame hovering over a hot oven day-in, day-out. “So, I don’t want to sound rude,” he started, “But, Kenma, you don’t exactly look like a baking type.”  
Kenma’s mouth twitched. “I’m not,” he said, “Yaku and I own it together. He has two assistants, Lev and Fukunaga, who help with the baking. I just manage the business side of things and ensure customer satisfaction.”  
“He also designs the cakes,” Kuroo put in with a grin, “He designed our band logo as well.”  
“I _was_ a freelance designer,” Kenma said, side-eyeing Kuroo, “Now it’s the bakery fulltime. We’re looking into buying it from the owner once our lease is up in June,” he added.  
“Congratulations,” Oikawa smiled, “That’s a big step.”  
Kenma nodded. “I’m just trying not to step on any landmines right now. Our landlord is...temperamental, and he doesn’t really share Irihata-san’s ideals.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “Does that mean he thinks there are only two genders, and you should stay the one you’re born with and sleep with the one you’re not?”  
“Essentially,” Kenma answered as Kuroo scowled beside him, “We’ll be relieved to not have to deal with him again. Did you know he created a fuss when he read the names on your friends’ cakes?”  
“He did?” Oikawa felt a small spike of panic before reminding himself that the wedding was _over_.  
“Yeah, we managed to convince him that some strange family had named their daughter Issei for superstitious reasons.” Kenma rolled his eyes, “I know it sounds silly but a single day he disrupts is a day’s worth of business gone, and we can’t afford that. And him forcing us to vacate or not selling to us because of his biases would be extremely problematic since we’ve built up a client base here.”  
“I absolutely know what you mean,” Oikawa said sympathetically, “We have a couple of clients who tend to be extremely conservative as well. Well, thankfully I got the account transferred to someone else,” he added with a wink, “My boss wasn’t even mad.”  
“How’d you do that?”  
“So it turns out the client’s VP liked to come to Ukai-san’s place, you know? And Iwa-chan and I were there having the first sukiyaki of the winter, and he just decided that because we were eating together, we had to be a couple.” Oikawa didn’t notice Kuroo’s eye twitch. “He called my boss and requested a transfer to a more ‘traditional’ account executive which I didn’t mind because he shot down most of our ideas from the get-go.”    
“Lucky it worked out,” Kenma said, giving a small smile, and Oikawa nodded.

The meal had certainly been pleasant, if somewhat eclectic. Ushijima scooped up the last of the strawberry icecream Oikawa had pushed on him, and considered another slice of the ganache before regretfully deciding against it. He kept in shape, but the calories he’d burn so easily earlier were now tougher to deal with, and he’d started detecting a disappointing softness in the vicinity of his gut. Across from him, Kuroo and Kenma were clearly ready to leave, looking at Bokuto, who hadn’t finished telling Iwaizumi his story. Technically Ushijima was supposed to be listening as well, but he’d gotten lost somewhere around the third serving of pasta and hadn’t been able to catch up.

Finally Bokuto wrapped up what had evidently been an amusing tale, and the three left almost immediately after saying their goodbyes, Kenma apparently in a hurry to return to his bakery. Iwaizumi collected the dishes and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher, while Oikawa walked Ushijima to the door to say goodbye. Oikawa was chattering about how nice Ushijima had been to Bokuto and how patient he was, his voice warm and lilting and somehow soothing. Ushijima quickly evaluated the situation and decided this was his best chance. He paused for barely a second before, “Oikawa.”  
“Yes, Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa peered back at him, birdlike. It was...cute. Oikawa was cute.  
“Are you and Iwaizumi dating?”  
Oikawa gaped and nearly dropped his phone. “What? No, we’re just best friends. You’ve known us for so long, Ushiwaka-chan! Why now?”  
“I like to be sure about things,” Ushijima declared. “People are hard to read. Most of the time I’m not even sure if my, er, gaydar is working right,” he hinted, feel absolutely daring.

Oikawa’s mouth twitched. “I can assure you that I am one hundred percent gay, and Iwa-chan is bisexual. Your gaydar works fine, Ushiwaka-chan. We’re just not dating.”  
“Alright,” Ushijima said soberly. “I am gay as well, for the record.”  
“Oh, I knew that!” Oikawa flapped a hand dismissively. “I saw you on the stairs the day you brought home that eighteen-year-old–”  
“He was twenty-eight. He simply looked a little young."  
“Well, it was a _him_ , which was what I was focusing on."  
"Oh, right. So you're single?"  
Oikawa smirked. "Yes. Is there someone you'd like to set me up with?"  
Ushijima frowned. "Not particularly. Would you like me to set you up with someone?"  
Oikawa laughed. "Nonono, I'm not really in the market for a boyfriend right now. Maybe if the right person came along, though..."  
"You're setting Oikawa up?" Iwaizumi asked, walking over from the kitchen. "Are you plotting the downfall of an arch rival, Ushijima-san?"  
"Iwa- _chaaan_!" Oikawa wailed, right on cue, and even Ushijima couldn't stifle a smile as he bade them goodbye.

He wasn't quite sure what was going on there, but it was apparently one-sided. He'd take his chance and ask Oikawa out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a little Googling about basic Japanese food (and flowers) for this. If anything is factually incorrect please let me know!


	5. Chapter 5 - Of Dinners and Disagreements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll have you know I won a beautiful baby contest when I was a child,” Kageyama said, perfectly serious, and Hinata couldn’t stop his laugh. “Who hosted it, National Geographic?”
> 
> \---
> 
> Rated T for discussions of sex and relationships. Also, I am incapable of writing without mentions of food.

“No chibi-chan here tonight?” Kuroo asked as casually as possible, setting down his guitar case.  
“I heard you played with Shouyou today.” Kenma, as always, kept his tone even.  
Kuroo paused.  “I did. He and Kageyama get along surprisingly well.”  
“I know. I think Shouyou is as surprised as anyone.” Kenma added, a smile curving his small mouth. A mouth Kuroo was trying to ignore, because _four more months, Tetsurou._

Why was he here, anyway? Kuroo didn’t understand himself sometimes. He’d been in love with Kenma since they were kids, only to have lost touch for years in high school and college. He’d studied economics like his father wanted, joined the family business, then resigned to let his sister take over, and moved in with his college roommate, Bokuto, to form a band three years earlier. He’d come out to his parents as pansexual and been disowned for a year before things had sorted themselves out. It was around a year and a half ago that Kenma had moved in and opened a bakery with _his_ college roommate, Yakkun. Kuroo’d gone into the Black Cat Bakery looking for something for Bokuto’s birthday. He’d ended up with an owl-themed cake and an old friend’s phone number.

They went out for coffee. Once. At the end of the date Kuroo went in for a kiss, Kenma dodged, and then the whole story with the landlord came spilling out. Since then Kuroo had slept with other people and Kenma with no one. They’d meet up often and ignore any tension in the air. Kuroo didn’t feel guilty, and he wasn't sure whether Kenma felt jealous. He’d all but given up on them ever dating, but then Kenma had pulled him inside his flat and explained his detailed plan to finance the purchase of the bakery building.  
(Sometimes, Kuroo wished he hadn’t seen the utter hope in Kenma’s eyes that night. Maybe then he could have refused to give their relationship another chance.) But as things stood now, Kenma was back to being Kenma the friend, and Kuroo was waiting till the bakery’s lease was up.

He accepted the cup of black coffee Kenma held out and watched his friend heat up some leftover sandwiches in the microwave. They weren’t always alone, but they had a meal together at Kenma’s flat at least once a week. Usually it was sandwiches and some cake from the bakery, maybe a salad if either of them was motivated.  
“What’s today’s special?” Kuroo smirked.  
“Spicy chicken salad and ham with cheese. Take your pick.”  
“One of each, then. And maybe another coffee.”  
“It’s too late to be drinking that much coffee,” Kenma said serenely. “You can have tea with me if you like.”  
“Moroccan mint?”  
“Out of those.”  
Kuroo grumbled. “I’ll skip it today, then. What are you having?”  
“Green with lemon.”  
As was custom, Kuroo wolfed down his sandwiches as Kenma nibbled on his first, and then made the tea. He served it in a chipped Black Cat Bakery mug, covered it with a coaster.

“So, what does chibi-chan have to say about Kageyama? Besides him being a great setter, of course.”  
Kenma narrowed his eyes. “How well did he play today?”  
“He was in the national team, Kenma. What do you think?”  
Kenma chewed and swallowed. “How’s Tooru dealing with him returning?”  
“About as well as you’d expect.” Kuroo shrugged, “Not sure why he has it out for the guy so much, though.”  
“Tooru doesn’t like Kageyama for some reason. Never has. What?” he asked at Kuroo’s grin.  
“Kageyama, eh? No _Tobio_?”  
“I don’t speak to him at all.” Kenma sipped his tea delicately, “And in this case, I’d rather treat him as Shouyou’s friend than a direct acquaintance.”  
“What, you’re suspicious of him?" _Or are you jealous of him?_ A pit threatened to formed in Kuroo’s stomach.   
“Not particularly,” Kenma said thoughtfully, “I think in many respects he’s the same as Shouyou. Fairly simple-minded and straightforward, enthusiastic about volleyball. Apparently Shouyou’s been following his career for a few years. He’s called The King of the Court.”  
“The King, eh? He seemed perfectly polite and respectful today.”  
“Maybe, but he seems to dislike the nickname. Must be lonely at the top.”  
“He’s no longer at the top, though,” Kuroo pointed out.

Kenma nodded. “Apparently he’s out to conquer the stovetop now. He’s cooking Shouyou dinner.”  
Kuroo's grin was positively wicked. “Ohohohoho, how adorably domestic. And here you nuke some sandwiches and refuse me coffee.”  
“I’d care, but after all this time I have virtually no chance of making a good impression.” Kenma said blandly, and Kuroo cackled. “You got that right. How about a beer instead?”  
Kenma went to the fridge and brought him a chilled can. Kuroo sighed at the first sip. “Ah, that hits the spot. So how did chibi-san get himself invited to Kageyama’s house?”  
“That’s the funny part.” Kenma mused, “He didn’t even think of it. Kageyama offered all on his own.”  
They both stopped to let that sink in.  
“God,” Kuroo muttered, “I’ve been here since before he arrived, and I never realized how antisocial he was until now. The first guest in _two years._ ”  
“To be fair, you’re not especially social outside of the bakery and the band.”  
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen that guy with a boyfriend or girlfriend or even a _friend_. Just that little blonde assistant who comes by.”  
“It’s not unusual. I mean, you and, by extension, Koutarou, Nobiyuki and Akinori are the only friends I have outside of work.”  
“And chibi-chan."  
“And Shouyou,” Kenma agreed. He pursed his lips. “I’d have to watch them actually interact to get a better idea. But Kageyama actually asked him to come shopping for ingredients. They’ve been out since around five.”  
“Getting concerned, Kenma-kaa-san?”  
“Of course not. It’s just – Shouyou is still new here. It wouldn’t do for him to go through something bad and get his spirits down.”

“You worry too much,” Kuroo felt his irritation rise to the surface, and stood up abruptly. “He’s just gone out for dinner with a new friend he made, someone around the same age. Don’t dampen his spirits with your questioning when he comes back, Kenma. That kid doesn’t need the cynicism, and it’s unlikely to do him any good.”  
Kenma looked away, refusing to make eye contact. While it was normal behaviour around most people, he usually looked Kuroo in the eye. Kuroo was instantly on alert.  
“What’s happening with the landlord – is it dampening your spirits too, Kuro?”  
Kuroo nearly lied and said no, but this was Kenma, so he sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Somewhat, yeah. I mean, I understand why you’re doing it. But this has nothing to do with what I’m saying. Don’t extrapolate your situation to chibi-chan. They’re just a couple of kids having fun, they don’t have to worry like you do. So don’t project your feelings onto them, okay? That’s unfair.”  
Kenma was quiet. “I’m sorry, for asking you to wait till then. It seems a little cowardly to hide it until it’s convenient, doesn’t it?”  
Kuroo waved a hand. “It’s something people have to do in certain situations. I know that – it’s just hard to wait.”  
He lay down onto Kenma’s couch, head resting against one arm, ankles dangling off the other. To his surprise, Kenma followed him there, sitting down primly in the curve formed by Kuroo’s body. He stroked a hand through Kuroo’s impossible hair and sighed. “I find it hard to wait too, Kuro. I just – if we started something physical now, I wouldn’t be able to hide it till then. And I don’t want to do things by halves.”  
Kuroo nodded, heart in his throat. As easy as a breath, Kenma quashed any half-formed worries, touching something inside him that he hadn’t known existed.

They stayed like that for five minutes, Kuroo’s fingers stroking Kenma’s thin wrist. Then they mutually let go and Kuroo changed the subject as he sat up. “You know who’s been super distracted lately?”  
“Koutarou?”  
Kuroo sighed. “How did you guess? Never mind, of course you guessed.”  
The conversation flowed, smooth and sweet as syrup. And Kuroo sent a mental thank you to one Kageyama Tobio, because he’d like more dinners alone with Kenma, even if all they did was gossip like their kaa-sans.

\---

Iwaizumi’d had a good day. He’d enjoyed his lunch, then done some chores around the house and hit the gym for a couple of hours in the evening. He was wondering what to do for dinner, though he wasn’t in the mood for anything heavy, when Oikawa entered his flat, kicking off his slippers, carrying a couple of Tupperware boxes. “Let’s finish this, Iwa-chan!” he sang, “I’d rather not waste it.”

Iwaizumi reluctantly pushed the thoughts of omurice to the back of his mind as Oikawa busied himself in the kitchen, heating up the curry and rice. He had some work papers spread over the low dining table and he considered clearing them, but when Oikawa ate at his place they usually sat on the bamboo swing strung out in Iwaizumi’s balcony, watching the twinkling lights of the city. “Swing or table?” he called out.  
“Swing,” came the reply, “But we’ll probably need blankets.”  
Even though spring was around the corner there was still a nip in the night air. Iwaizumi dragged the blankets off the guest bed and set them up on the swing. Oikawa brought the curry and rice in bowls and they sat wrapped in blankets and spooned hot curry into their mouths as they watched the lights. Neither of them spoke much as the swing creaked and moved gently in the cold.

When they finished, Iwaizumi collected their bowls and then decided to take a couple of minutes to wash them in the sink right then. He went back, drying his now-freezing hands with a towel, and realized Oikawa was about two minutes away from falling asleep.  
“Oikawa, you shouldn’t sleep so soon after eating,” Iwaizumi scolded.  
“Iwa-chan, are you my okaa-san?” Oikawa asked, and Iwaizumi kicked at his shin lightly before sitting down. “Speaking of moms, did you call yours today?”  
“Called her in the evening,” Iwaizumi confirmed, “She says you should carry an extra scarf because you’re a weakling who can’t stand the cold.”  
Oikawa scoffed. “She wouldn’t have said anything half as rude. How come Aunty and Daichi are both so nice and you’re a brute?”  
“I take after my dad, of course,” Iwaizumi said smugly. “Mom says I look exactly like him.”  
Oikawa instinctively moved closer and rested his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi’s father had passed away when he and Daichi were still kids. Iwaizumi was comfortable enough about it, but Oikawa still felt a little protective of him.  
“I think kaa-san should remarry,” Iwaizumi said, “It’s been long enough since Tou-san died. Daichi and I are independent. She has nothing to worry about anymore.”  
Oikawa hummed in agreement. “She’s what? Fifty? And she looks forty. People will give her a hard time about it though.”  
“They always have,” Iwaizumi grumbled, “They did when she married Daichi’s father, then when he left her pregnant, then when she married Tou-san, then when he died, then when Daichi married Koushi, and then when they had the twins through the surrogate. She’s gone through enough shit to not care about people anymore. I just don’t want her to be lonely.”  
“She seems happy enough with her newspaper column,” Oikawa reasoned. “Plus, it must be hard to not compare it with what she and your Tou-san had. They found it in each other, didn’t they?”  
Iwaizumi cleared his throat. “When I was in school, I asked her if she regretted falling in love only to lose it all over again. And she said what time they had together was worth it.”

Oikawa thought of Iwaizumi Riko, with her kind dark eyes and her petite built, patting his head, exclaiming about what a charmer he was, offering him milk bread every time he visited. She was always smiling, and it struck him just _how many times_ life had given her reason to cry, and she’d refused. As far as the women in his life went, she was second only to his mother and his niece. He felt his eyes watering a little and surreptitiously tried to wipe them.  
Even in the dim light, Iwa-chan noticed. “Don’t start crying, Shittykawa.”  
“You’re so heartless, Iwa-chan. That’s one of the most wonderful things I’ve ever heard.” Iwa-chan shifted so Oikawa could lean more comfortably against him as he continued, “Is that why Iwa-chan is such a romantic?”  
“Shut up,” Iwa-chan said mildly, “Anyway, my point stands. She could remarry if she wanted to.”  
“I wonder if senior citizens have dating sites,” Oikawa mused, “She’d probably be a trophy wife to a lucky oji-san.”  
Iwa-chan whacked him on the head. “You’re not going to set my kaa-san up with someone. I refuse to allow it.”

“Speaking of setting up,” Oikawa said brightly, and Iwaizumi groaned. “What did you do _now_?”  
“So rude! I haven’t done anything yet. But I was thinking of setting Hinata-kun up with Ushiwaka-chan.”  
There was a pause, then Iwaizumi said, very deliberately, “Ushiwaka and _Hinata_? Why on earth?”  
“Have some imagination, Iwa-chan! Ushiwaka-chan is smart and experienced, and Hinata-kun is young and needs guidance–”  
“If you’re suggesting Ushiwaka be his _sugar daddy_ –”  
Oikawa sat up. “ _Ew_ Iwa-chan! I was thinking more along the lines of _My Fair Lady_ , obviously. And where did you get that terrible idea, you perv?”  
“Are you seriously calling me a pervert,” Iwa-chan grumbled, “That bleached blond you dated fresh out of college–”  
“We are not talking about Kazu–”  
“He called you _Daddy_ while I was present!”  
“He was _trying_ it out!” Oikawa defended, harried, “It wasn’t like it was a _thing_ between us.”  
“I wouldn’t judge if it were,” Iwaizumi said placidly, “I’m just saying you have no grounds for calling me a pervert.”  
“That’s true,” Oikawa admitted, “But _moving on_ , I think those two would make a nice pair.”

“Funny,” Iwaizumi mused, “Because you know what Ushijima told me? He and Hinata weren’t in the same team. In fact, Hinata was teamed up with Kageyama– ah hah!” he exclaimed triumphantly at Oikawa’s change in expression, “Hinata and Kageyama got along a little too well, did they?”  
Oikawa tossed his head. “I don’t think so, though Hinata-kun is friendly with Tobio-chan. But that doesn’t mean they’ll–”  
“Why not?” Iwaizumi asked reasonably, suppressing his grin, “They’re around the same age, as I recall, and they work together at the Coffee Pot. And they both like volleyball.”  
“Yes, but it’s Tobio-chan we’re talking about!”  
“Just because he didn’t fall at your feet when you smiled at him doesn’t make him a bad person. He seems like a nice kid, though awkward.”  
“Stop defending him–”  
“Stop acting like you’re in a high school clique,” Iwaizumi retorted, “Kageyama isn’t a bad kid, he just doesn’t get along with people like you. And he’s not bad-looking either–”  
  
Oikawa’s head whipped around, “Excuse me?”  
“You heard me,” Iwaizumi said, “He’s actually pretty handsome, his face just intimidates people.”  
“He’s handsome?”  
“Yes,” Iwaizumi repeated, “Tall kid, nice hair and eyes. Daichi has no complaints about how he does his work. Hinata could do worse. In fact, he’s got that silent scary thing Ushijima has as well, so I don't know why Hinata would like one but not the other."  
Oikawa was outright scowling, and Iwaizumi wondered at the strength of his reaction. “Whatever, Iwa-chan. I think Hinata-kun should date Ushiwaka-chan. Also, I’m inviting him to brunch with us tomorrow!” Oikawa held up his phone.  
“Why?”  
“Because I want to? And Ushiwaka-chan has that UK assignment coming up in a month. It’ll be nice if Hinata-kun makes his move before then.”  
Iwaizumi groaned and put a hand to his face in resignation as Oikawa continued to tap at his phone, leaning back against his shoulder and making himself comfortable. He pushed at the ground to make the swing move and made a mental note to fix the creaking, even as he savoured the contrast between the chilly air on his skin and the heat of Oikawa’s cheek against his shoulder.

\---

It was unusually cold in the penthouse, Hinata mused, perhaps because it was the top floor. Then again, it might have just been because Kageyama’s apartment seemed so _bare_ compared to the chaotic space he shared with Kenma. He was currently in Kageyama’s kitchen, sitting on the island, swinging his legs and waiting for the pizza to finish baking in the oven. The man himself was sitting in a chair, legs crossed and volleyball magazine in hand. Despite his silence, Hinata didn’t feel awkward with Kageyama, and nobody was more surprised than he. He hadn’t expected the invitation to dinner, but he’d accepted because who in his right mind would turn down pizza?

Then Kageyama, who had apparently decided that if you were going to socialize you should go all out, had asked Hinata to accompany him to the supermarket for ingredients. That had turned into nearly two hours of exploring the aisles, Googling pizza recipes and looking for ingredients, arguing over brands and toppings and goodness knew what else. In the end Hinata had offered to pay for the ingredients because Kageyama was making the food, and Kageyama had accepted. They’d also ended up stopping at Kenma’s on the way back, where Kenma had side-eyed Kageyama but given Hinata the last two apple pies at half-off.

So now they were about ten minutes away from feasting on a extra-large pizza with the works, half with sliced boiled egg on top and half without. Hinata could feel his mouth watering and had to curb his visible impatience. He instinctively _knew_ Kageyama was as big an eater as he was (if his appetite for the fresh chocolate milk at the Crow and the Coffee Pot was anything to go by) but he was placid and relaxed, and Hinata was damned if he was going to be shown up by some cowardly ex-national volleyball player. Instead, he focused on Kageyama’s living room that he could see from the kitchen because of the open layout. The decoration was in shades of brown and navy blue, the walls plain cream. There were a couple of old-fashioned tournament flyers that had been blown up and framed. There was a large flat-screen TV, the carpet was soft and grey, everything was neat and in perfect order. It was neat, straightforward and...stifling.

“Your house is not very cheerful,” Hinata remarked, and then bit his tongue. Wasn’t that incredibly rude? But Kageyama just looked up from the magazine and blinked out at the living room as if seeing it for the first time. “I guess,” he admitted, “I’m not very good at decorating. I just placed stuff that didn’t seem too bad, I don’t know how to make it look better, exactly.”  
“You need a splash of colour in your room!” Hinata decided, glad he’d not taken offence. “You should just paint one of these walls in a bright colour. Then it’ll be like GWAHH!”  
Kageyama’s lip twitched. “Speak like a normal person, would you? I’ll think about it. What do you wanna watch with dinner?”  
Hinata shrugged. “I don’t know, what do you usually watch?”

“Volleyball videos,” Kageyama said instantly, “I keep track of players around the world, techniques they’re incorporating and stuff. But there’s movies and streaming in case you want something else.”  
“So you do homework while you eat?” Hinata teased, and was surprised to see Kageyama flush. “Well, I’m not really good at anything except being a volleyball idiot, so yeah. I have an assistant who helps me out with taxes and other financial stuff.”  
His tone was too honest to be joking, and Hinata suddenly felt warm. It was both a little unnerving and a little heartening to see one of the world’s top athletes call himself an idiot and acknowledge his flaws so openly.  
“I’m pretty sure you’re good at cooking,” he protested, and Kageyama looked embarrassed. “Or wait, are you not good at cooking? Will I _die_?” Hinata gasped theatrically, and Kageyama swatted at his leg. “Of course not, dumbass. Look, the pizza is done. Come on.”

They switched off the oven and removed the tray with their mitts before moving the pizza to the serving stand on the table. Steam rose, cheese bubbled and a delicious aroma pervaded the room. Hinata was pretty sure he was drooling. Kageyama carefully used a cutter to slice it into twelve manageable slices, and after five minutes gave the go-ahead to eat.  
They decided to skip the volleyball videos in favour of some documentary on Ancient Egypt on the TV. At the first sinking of teeth into the crust, Hinata moaned. “Gods, this is amazing, Kageyama.”  
Kageyama blushed and nibbled on his slice to make sure it wasn’t too hot. “Thanks, I’m glad it came out well the first time. You should try one of the egg slices,” he added. Hinata wrinkled his nose – he wasn’t sure how it would be – but the taste of the melted cheese with the boiled yolk was surprisingly delicious. He stuck to his plain slices, though, because Kageyama clearly loved boiled eggs. They were both surprisingly even as far as speed was concerned, slowing down around their fifth slices and thoroughly full by the time the pizza was finished.

“Oh my god, I don’t think I can walk. Kageyama, I think I’m in a coma. Are my legs still attached?”  
“Shut up, dumbass,” Kageyama grumbled, “You’ll say all that and then eat that apple pie as well.”  
That was true, but... “How did you know, you glutton?”  
“Takes one to know one,” Kageyama shrugged, “Is Kenma-san’s apple pie good?”  
“It’s _amazing_ ,” Hinata exclaimed, “Apple pie is his favourite food, so the bakery makes them extra amazing. When you taste them it’s like _whoosh_! He doesn’t actually bake them, though,” he added. “He just owns half the bakery. The other owner, Yaku-san, is the actual pastry chef. He’s really nice, he gives me a croissant if they’re fresh from the oven. You shouldn’t mention his height, though. One time Lev did and Yaku-san gave him kitchen cleanup duty for a week.”  
Kageyama’s forehead wrinkled. “Lev? Is that a name?”  
“Yep,” Hinata spelt it out. “He’s this half-Russian dude, massive guy. Works at the bakery under Yaku-san along with Fukunaga-san. I was scared of him, but he’s quite harmless.”  
“You were scared of me,” Kageyama said suddenly, and Hinata flushed. “Your face is so scary!”  
“I was born with this face!” Kageyama protested, frowning severely, and Hinata’s mouth twitched. “Really? Did you scare the nurses at the hospital when you were born?”  
Kageyama pouted – actually _pouted_. Hinata felt his stomach flip.

“I’ll have you know I won a beautiful baby contest when I was a child,” Kageyama said, perfectly serious, and Hinata couldn’t stop his laugh. “Who hosted it, National Geographic?” he chortled, and continued to laugh even as Kageyama grabbed the top of his head and squeezed. “Ouch, ouch – seriously though, how the heck did you win?”  
Kageyama ignored that and instead said, “So did they fish you out of the sea when you were a baby shrimp?”  
“ _Hey_ ,” Hinata squawked, “I’m not that short!”  
Kageyama was grinning maniacally (Hinata refused to wonder why he didn’t find that too scary) as he said, “That grandma at the market told you to– mmph!”  
“Don’t remind me!” Hinata wailed, hand covering Kageyama’s mouth, then snatched it back when Kageyama licked it because _of course he did._ (Hinata would have done the same.)  
“She said you were a _growing child_ who needed your vegetables!” Kageyama smirked, “ _And_ the checkout clerk agreed with her.”  
Hinata was pressing his face into a cushion to avoid his embarrassment. Kageyama poked him. “Say, didn’t you say you’d been going there for _ages_? And all this time all the employees there thought you were a _child_?”  
“You’re ruining my afterglow from dinner,” Hinata grumbled, and heard a chuckle. Looking up, he saw Kageyama smiling. Actually _smiling_ , his mouth was in a little curve and his eyes were warm and he looked _so utterly gorgeous_ , like some teenage crush from one of Natsu’s shoujo mangas. Hinata was pretty sure he gaped, because a second later surprise and caution flashed across Kageyama’s face, “What? What happened?”  
“N-nothing,” Hinata stammered, but Kageyama frowned at him, so he looked down and continued, “You just look really nice when you smile.”

He looked back at Kageyama after a moment and huffed because, really, it was hard to tell who was blushing more at that point.

The moment was broken when Hinata’s phone chimed. He unlocked it and his eyes widened.  
“What’s up?” Kageyama asked.  
“It’s Oikawa-san,” Hinata said, and didn’t miss the way Kageyama’s eyes dulled, “He wants me to have lunch with him and his flatmate tomorrow.”  
“Best friend,” Kageyama corrected.  
“Huh?”  
“Iwaizumi-san isn’t his flatmate. They’re neighbours and close friends, is all.”  
Hinata nodded. “Yeah, they seem to know each other well.”  
“They play really well together,” Kageyama said, and Hinata sighed mentally.  When in doubt, Kageyama would talk about volleyball. Not that he particularly minded. “They’re really in sync, more than Oikawa-san is with Ushijima-san and Bokuto-san. Iwaizumi-san used to be the ace and Oikawa-san was the setter on their college team.”  
“Do you not get along with Oikawa-san?” Hinata asked.  
Kageyama shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t understand what to do when he gets all friendly like that, and maybe I was a little blunt with him? I don’t know. I guess I just don’t understand most people well. He doesn’t seem to like me much.”  
“Why not?”

Kageyama looked him in the eye. “I don’t know, it’s not like I have a history of making bad impressions on people or anything.”  
Hinata flushed. “Sorry. Do you think we could get that apple pie now?”  
“Are you actually in the mood for it or did you just want to change the subject?”  
“Why not both?” Hinata tried smiling. Kageyama stared at his face for what seemed like a long time before he smirked. “If you actually want to make up, how about you let me have one and half pies.”  
“Like hell,” Hinata grinned, “Don’t be rude to a guest.”  
“Oh, you’re a _guest_ now,” Kageyama mimicked him, “Does this look like a hotel to you?”  
“More like a creepy haunted inn.”  
“Alright, that’s it, you’re not getting the pie.”  
Kageyama made a show of holding the pie out of Hinata’s reach for all of ten seconds before giving in and reaching into the fridge for some ice-cream to go with it. Hinata grinned at him, and felt the warmth of Kageyama’s matching smile seep into his skin.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to write! I love the individual pairings and their dynamics so much ❤️


	6. Chapter 6 - Of Projections and Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa Tooru: Men who are single for long, Shou-chan, they tend to be like wild horses
> 
> Oikawa Tooru: You need to tame them, you know? ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ
> 
> \---
> 
> Rated T for mentions of sex and sexual situations.

“Iwa-chan, don’t answer the door like that!” Oikawa exclaimed.

Iwaizumi turned around, hands on hips, and the pink frilly hem of the apron tied around his waist swirled to follow. He was completely clueless as to how _attractive_ he could be, Oikawa grumbled to himself. He still shuddered to think of the time Iwaizumi had worn an apron at Oikawa’s parents’ house, and his kaa-san’s friends had all but ignored Oikawa in favour of paying attention to Iwa-chan. It was an experience neither of them was keen on repeating.

“Do we want Hinata-kun to fall in love with you instead of Ushiwaka-chan?” Oikawa demanded in a whisper.  
Iwaizumi pretended to consider this. “Well, the kid _is_ kind of cute now that you mention it...” and Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “Iwa-chan! Go after people your own age!”  
Iwaizumi gave him a look and waited for Oikawa to process what he’d said. When Oikawa blinked back, he sighed, “Ushiwaka is _thirteen_ years older than Hinata. I’m five years older.”  
Oikawa flailed as Iwaizumi stood there and smirked at him, “Hey, maybe I _will_ try to charm the kid. Throw your great plan off balance.”  
Oikawa sniffed, “Iwa-chan is such a brute he’ll scare off Hinata-kun anyway.”  
Iwaizumi laughed, “Is that a bet?”  
“No, it is certainly not,” Oikawa flapped a hand at him, “Now go open the door, and _don’t flirt with Hinata-kun_.”

Oikawa wasn’t wrong. When Iwaizumi opened the door Hinata blinked at him, dazzled, and then blushed at the knowing look Iwaizumi was giving him. “Um, nice apron, Iwaizumi-san,” he stammered, and Iwaizumi grinned at him, feral and sexy.  
“Iwa-chan, stop trying to give him a heart attack!” Oikawa ordered, “Go take that apron off, we were done cooking ages ago.”  
“ _You_ certainly didn’t complain when I kept it on all this time,” Iwa-chan countered, and went back into the dining room, taking off his apron on the way. Oikawa averted his eyes from the way his hands were undoing the little pink knot at the small of his back. Hinata, who apparently had no such compunctions, was paused in the middle of taking one of his shoes off, foot suspended in midair. Oikawa giggled and patted his head. “There, there, you’ll get used to Iwa-chan eventually.”  
Hinata blushed again as they headed in after Iwa-chan, who was placing cutlery on the table. He smiled at Hinata more normally, and received a confused smile in return. The washing machine beeped in the other room, and Iwa-chan went in, saying, “I’ll handle that right now, then we can eat.”  
Oikawa leaned in to Hinata. “I know what you’re thinking.” Hinata blinked back as he continued, “You’re thinking, _did he actually smile like that earlier or was I imagining it?_ Because he’s acting all normal now. It’s because Iwa-chan usually tones his handsomeness down in public."

“He does?” Hinata giggled.  
Oikawa nodded knowledgably. “He’s pretty serious-minded, so it irritates him when people notice how good-looking he is when he isn’t focusing on that. He does this thing where he plays it down, so what strikes you first is what he’s saying or doing rather than how he looks.”  
“How would you do that?” Hinata wondered.  
“ _Well_ , usually he uses me to distract people. I do that naturally, of course. He also keeps quiet unless necessary, and does this thing with his eyebrows.” Oikawa brought his together dramatically, and Hinata laughed out loud.  
“But when he relaxes around you, you start to notice it.” Oikawa added.  
“You’ve known each other a long time, huh?” Hinata asked, and he nodded.  
“Since before Koushi and Daichi’s wedding. We went to the same university.”  
Hinata took a seat at the table, and Oikawa sat next to him and started pointing out the dishes. “There’s rice, miso soup, mapo tofu with soba, tamagoyaki, pork cutlets, pickled vegetables and a salad. Oh, and melon-pan for dessert.”  
Hinata’s face lit up. “This looks _amazing!_ Did you make all this?”  
“Well, we bought the soba noodles and the melon-pan, but everything else, yes. Iwa-chan and I do this about once a month, just for fun.”  
“He says that, but he gets really cranky if he doesn’t get to breakfast like a king once a month,” Iwa-chan said as he walked back in, grinning. Oikawa stuck out his tongue.

“So, if this is your tradition,” Hinata asked a little shyly, “Why did you invite me?”  
Oikawa lightly kicked Iwaizumi under the table as a reminder to stay silent, and then said brightly, “Because Koushi and Daichi like you, and we’d like to know you a bit better.”  
They said thanks for the food and began ladling it out at Hinata described his family back home, and the process he used to create his miniatures. He held up his hands, proudly showing the little nicks and cuts from his carving knife, and Oikawa ooh’d and winced in sympathy.

Iwaizumi was more contemplative, but his eyes were dark and attentive. And despite how pretty Oikawa was, with his coiffed hair and bright smile, Hinata couldn’t help glancing down at Iwaizumi’s strong forearms, the veins vividly green against the gold of his tan. When he looked up from watching Iwaizumi-san’s dexterous fingers manoeuvre his chopsticks to capture a rolled omelet, he was taken aback at Oikawa’s expression. For a fraction of a second, the mask seemed to have slipped to reveal a mix of annoyance, uncertainty and... _jealousy_? But then it disappeared, and Hinata was left wondering if he’d imagined it at Oikawa-san asked him if he took commissions, and explained how he’d like customized gifts for a colleague’s upcoming wedding.

The food was delicious, Hinata decided as he took another helping of the deep-fried tofu, and there was a lot of it. He imagined the two of them working in tandem in the kitchen, Oikawa chatting and teasing and Iwaizumi casually insulting him at every turn. He remembered what Kageyama said about them syncing well together and hoped he’d face off against them in a match soon.  
“Kageyama said you play well together,” he started.  
Oikawa smiled brightly, “That’s because Iwa-chan has my perfect trust.”  
“As if I’d want that with you,” Iwa-chan said half-heartedly into his soba. Even Hinata could tell he wasn’t serious.  
“ _Methinks the Iwa-chan doth protest too much_!” Oikawa recited in English.  
“You don’t put _the_ for proper nouns, Trashykawa.”  
“You’re such a caveman, you can’t even accept a compliment normally,” Oikawa sighed. “Anyway, I’m glad to hear the national-level setter thinks I set nicely. Quite a compliment from Tobio-chan.”  
Hinata was too busy trying to hear any particular inflection in the way Oikawa said Kageyama’s name, and he didn’t see the look of warning Iwa-chan directed at him.

“I’d like Oikawa-san to set for me as well,” he said hopefully, “Maybe next time we play?”  
“Sure,” Iwaizumi nodded, “We could swap setters–”  
“I’m sure Hinata could be on _our_ team, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa interrupted smoothly. “You could probably give him some tips.”  
“I don’t know about that,” Iwaizumi said more modestly, “I’d like to see you and Kageyama play, though. I heard you came up with a crazy quick.”  
“It was mostly Kageyama,” Hinata said bashfully, “He’s _so_ accurate. You just think _This is where I’d like the toss_ and bam! There it is.”  
“If there’s anyone you should take tips from,” Oikawa continued, “It’s Ushiwaka-chan!”  
Hinata’s eyes widened. “Ushijima-san? Would he be willing to give me tips?”  
“Why not? He was a _pro_ player too, you know. Your Tobio-chan may be a genius but he lacks experience. Ushiwaka-chan has seen it all _and_ written about it. You should read his books,” Oikawa enthused as Hinata flushed and offered a token protest about _not seeing Kageyama that way._  
“Have _you_ read his books?” Iwaizumi muttered.  
“Of course, Iwa-chan! We don’t all spend our free time exercising everything in the body but the brain!” Oikawa scoffed, and Iwa-chan tossed a piece of carrot at him.  
“Anyway, Ushiwaka-chan would be glad to talk to you, Hinata-kun!”  
“Really?”  
“Yes! People like Ushiwaka-chan, they like enthusiasm! And–” here Oikawa leaned in and winked, “he likes them cute, you know?”  
Hinata’s face went pink and clashed with his hair. “Uhm.”

“That is, if you swing that way!” Oikawa said reassuringly, as if he hadn’t confirmed with Koushi already.  
“I–I do,” Hinata murmured, “but I hadn’t really considered Ushijima-san that way.”  
“Well, you _should_ ,” Oikawa rested his chin on his palm, “Ushijima-san is tall, good-looking and an eligible bachelor. He has so much experience, in volleyball and I’m sure in _other_ aspects as well.” He added saucily, and it was so unsubtle Iwaizumi snorted.  
Hinata, though, was taking it all in. “Well, I’ve never dated anyone that much older before...”  
“Always a first time for everything!” Oikawa bubbled, “I tried it once, it went quite well.”  
Iwa-chan frowned at him. “Who was your much-older man?”  
“Well, do you remember the American guy from my office, Stephen?”  
“He barely looked thirty.”  
“Surprise! He was thirty-nine, though I didn’t know it till the third date.”Iwa-chan nodded, remembering the rest. “Well, didn’t it end suddenly?”  
“Yeah, he got transferred back. It was good while it lasted though. Did you date anyone older, Iwa-chan?”  
Iwa-chan cleared him throat. “About that. Uh, do you remember the secret girlfriend I had soon after we left college?”  
Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “Iwa-chan. _No._ ”  
“Head of the Neurosurgery department in college.” Iwa-chan kicked back and crossed his arms behind his head, grinning. “She was smart and gorgeous, and we didn’t have any conflicts of interests after I graduated. I did see her corresponding with Makki once, though.”  
“You _dog_ , Iwa-chan _!_ ” Oikawa exclaimed. “All the guys on campus wanted her.”  
Iwa-chan shrugged. “Wasn’t just the guys. She transferred to an actual surgeon’s job at Tokyo General soon after, though. It got too hectic to keep seeing her.”  
“Did you, uh, ever do like a doctor roleplay?” Hinata asked, curiosity overcoming shyness. Iwaizumi-san’s eyebrows shot up. “Not exactly my thing, you know, and she wanted to get away from the job as well. But nice taste you’ve got there, Hinata. Nurse costumes, eh?”

“Not really my taste – I mean, I was just curious.” Hinata mumbled something that may have been _I prefer aprons_ but Oikawa didn’t like to dwell on that, on how his potential matchmaking charge was making a beeline for the _wrong_ ace. This conversation was really going off track.  
“Point being,” he said grandly, “You really should try talking to Ushiwaka-chan next time, Hinata. I’m sure the two of you will hit it off. Opposites attract and all that, you know?”  
Hinata still seemed doubtful, and Oikawa pressed on, “I like Tobio-chan as much as anyone, but there’s something to be said for someone who’s figured out his place in life. Tobio-chan still isn’t sure of where to go, right? He probably isn’t looking for anything serious right now, and it would be a shame to be disappointed after getting your hopes up.”  
“I’m really not interested in Kageyama that way! I b-barely know him!”  
“Plus I really do think Ushiwaka-chan would benefit from having someone like you around as well,” Oikawa added brightly, “He’s quite serious and needs to learn to have fun sometimes.” _Like Iwa-chan_ , he thought, and Iwaizumi glared at him because _of course_ he could read Oikawa’s mind. He didn’t say anything though, just went into the kitchen to get the melon bread.

“I–I suppose you’re right,” Hinata murmured. “I mean,I have enough to deal with finding customers for my work here, and figuring out how to pay the rent with my savings. I’m not even sure if I want a relationship, but I should probably be with someone who’s got things in place, you know? Maybe I’ll talk to Ushijima-san, see if he’d like to get to know me better?”  
“Great idea,” Oikawa enthused, “You can borrow a couple of his books as well, Daichi will lend them to you!”  
“Well, that’s if you decide to date anyone,” Iwa-chan added as he came back with the dessert and served it. “Sometimes when you’re figuring out other aspects of your life, it pays to go easy on the dating, you know?” He smiled reassuringly at Hinata, who smiled tentatively back. Even Oikawa couldn’t fault Iwa-chan for his common sense, so he stayed quiet and ate his share of melon-pan. And ignored the twinge in his gut when Hinata received a text from Kageyama that caused him to blush. After all, he knew from personal experience that instant infatuation rarely worked out. It was only kind to point Hinata’s affections in the direction that would best reciprocate them.

\---

Hinata Shouyou wondered if his current vagabonding through life had anything to do with the fact that he couldn’t quite make decisions as rapidly as he’d like. Currently he was peering into the display at Kenma’s bakery, trying to decide between a chocolate torte (the Wednesday Special) and a strawberry shortcake. Across the display, Fukunaga was waiting for him, silent and unblinking. Fukunaga had never said anything to Hinata – he wasn’t even sure the guy _could_ speak, actually. He’d have to ask Kenma next time. Hinata smiled at him apologetically and said, “I’ll go with the torte.”

He turned away from the display to go find a seat, and bumped right into a broad chest. He took a step back and looked up...and up, and found a pair of familiar olive-green eyes under caterpillar brows. “Ushijima-san!” he squeaked, and silently cursed his high-pitched voice.  
Ushijima nodded. “Hinata Shouyou. Nice to see you again.”  
Over Hinata’s head (and how embarrassing was _that_?) he called to Fukunaga, “The usual, please.”  
“Oh, are you a regular here?” Hinata stammered, “I’ve never seen you here, and I come pretty often!”  
Ushijima nodded silently, and at Hinata’s expectant look, added, “Kozume-kun gets my preferred tea-cakes delivered from local vendors, so I come here once a week to get it fresh.”  
“That’s great,” Hinata said, for lack of anything better, “Have you tried their fruit pastries? If you’re not into sweets the pork buns are great too!”  
Ushijima looked at him oddly, which made sense because Hinata might as well have dressed up as a giant cup of tea and handed out fliers outside the bakery. “I’m Kenma’s roommate,” he explained, “I usually end up getting free samples.”  
“Is that so.” There was no inflection to the statement, and Hinata hoped his swallow wasn’t audible as he said, “Ushijima-san, you’re a ex-professional player, right?”  
“Yes.”  
“If you’re free, ah, would you like to maybe give me feedback about how I played the other day?”  
Ushijima looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. “I was not aware that you were so serious about volleyball.”  
“Well, I never was good enough to get a scholarship,” Hinata explained, “So I started training in my grandfather’s woodworking shop. But I really love volleyball, and I’d like to improve even if I can only play occasionally.”  
“That is commendable,” Ushijima looked thoughtful. “I write for a living, so I do not maintain strict hours. If you are free right now I would not mind sharing my observations.”  
“That would be great!” Hinata smiled warmly, “I’ll buy you a coffee if you like. My treat!”  
“Where do you propose we go to?”  
“Suga-san’s coffee shop is just a block away. Have you tried their caramel frappucino?”  
“No. I refrain from consuming caffeinated drinks. I do not enjoy the slump.”  
“We have decaf,” Hinata said, charmed as Ushijima opened the door for him and then followed, “Trust me, you’ll love it!”

He thanked the gods that he’d taken note of the shifts today. His didn’t start until late afternoon, and Kageyama, who he was not exactly avoiding but would prefer did not see him with Ushijima, had requested to be given the day off. So he confidently led the way inside the cafe, with its striking inky blue-orange-white colour scheme, and waved to Ennoshita before seating Ushijima at a cosy little table near the front window. Ushijima was looking around with his usual poker face, taking in the whimsical adaptation of Aesop’s fable and the accompanying illustration that took up an entire wall.  
  
“ _Once there was a crow, and he was suffering from caffeine withdrawal. He found an extra-large takeaway cup, but the coffee was at the bottom and try as he might, he couldn’t reach it. So he found a bunch of pebbles and dropped them one by one into the cup. He did this until the coffee reached the brim of the cup. Then he drank the coffee, and flew three days without stopping._

 _The moral of the story: Some people will do anything for a cup of coffee_.”

Ushijima’s mouth curved in a small smile, and Hinata refused to admit it was kind of cute. _Ushijima Wakatoshi_ and _cute_ in the same sentence was just...strange. He placed their orders, taking advantage of his employee discount, and when Ennoshita asked he casually explained who Ushijima was, hoping to pass it off without any rumours spreading. He returned to their table armed with their coffees and bran muffins.

“What work do you do?” Ushijima asked abruptly, and Hinata blinked at him. “Surely you did not move here to work in a mere coffee shop.”  
Hinata bristled. He had other plans, yes, but he _loved_ working in the coffee shop, and Suga-san and Daichi-san did not need someone looking down at (one source of) their pride and joy. The coffee shop had been a community landmark for seven years now, thank you very much.  
Nonetheless, he put that aside and answered, “I make miniature wooden sculptures and handpaint them. It’s a family tradition actually. I made this when I was fourteen.” He offered his keychain ornament for inspection. Ushijima’s eyebrows shot up at the beautifully detailed depiction of a boy spiking a volleyball, forever frozen at the point of impact, legs bent, back arched. He could make out the details of the boy’s palms and the expression of utter concentration on his face.

“This is highly impressive,” Ushijima conceded, “They must sell well.”  
Hinata nodded. “They do, at home. I’ve adapted the method my family uses to make it much faster, though. They take me about half the time to make, depending on the level of detail required. But I’ve got some pieces I’m hoping the galleries will take an interest in.”  
He went into detail as he explained how he retained the proportions and drew inspiration from his surroundings, hoping to keep Ushijima’s attention for as long as possible. About half an hour passed before he looked at his watch and said, “Hinata-kun, you were intending to ask for my advice, was it not?”

Hinata flushed, having completely forgotten his reason to get Ushijima here in the first place. “S-Sorry, I got distracted. You’re a very good listener, Ushijima-san,” he added hopefully.  
Ushijima didn’t take the hint. “Your career plans are quite wonderful, but you brought me here with the express purpose of getting feedback on your volleyball. We have used up all the spare time I have had, and yet you do not know how your game can improve. I hope your approach to your career is not the same, Hinata-kun. It is not enough to have good intentions; one must have the willpower to follow through with their ideas.”  
“Y-yes,” Hinata murmured contritely.  
“I will be happy to speak to you about volleyball at some other time. Right now I have work to do. Meanwhile please stay focused on your work, in fact I suggest you get back to it instead of dawdling in this coffee shop when you are not working hours.”

He shook hands with Hinata like some uncle and made his way out. Hinata watched the broad, high line of his shoulders as they disappeared from sight. Ushijima-san had a nice body and a bubble butt (he probably called it his _gluteus_ ) and no, Hinata was not blind and would not mind hitting that whenever he had the chance, but so far he couldn’t make out if Ushijima was interested platonically, interested romantically or just _not interested._ Unlike Hinata who had his heart on his sleeve, Ushijima probably wouldn’t give away anything until the actual second when he declared his interest in someone. _Still_ , Hinata consoled himself, _it wasn’t like he was annoyed with or dismissive of me_. He was probably a serious-minded man who needed a while to consider attraction to someone, especially someone so much younger. He reflected on Oikawa-san’s words about dating an older man, and ignored the tiny part of his brain that repeatedly asked him  _why_ he hadn't wanted Kageyama around during the coffee date. Instead, he opened a new text window and sent a message to Oikawa that said _Guess who I just went out for coffee with!_

_\---_

Ushijima Wakatoshi opened the door to his penthouse and deposited the keys on a hook in the genkan. He put away his groceries in the kitchen, reheated some leftovers for a light lunch and then moved to the giant desktop in his home office, checking his emails (his editor was dropping in for coffee later that day) as he ate. He was planning to drop into the park today to sit in the sun (a weekly ritual) but Hinata Shouyou had distracted him. The coffee had been quite delicious, he thought to himself, but goodness knew how many extra calories he’d packed on. He’d have to run for longer tomorrow to make up for it.

He sat back and rubbed his eyes. He had not really made any progress in his plan to make a move on Oikawa Tooru. As a neighbour who had been here long enough, he knew many random things about Oikawa – he played volleyball well, enjoyed milk bread, texted using a lot of kaomojis, and his brother ran the coffee shop where Hinata had taken him. Sugawara Koushi was married to Sawamura Daichi, who was Iwaizumi’s brother. Ushijima had played with them when they had resided in Aoba Johsai Apartments, but they had moved out into an independent home about two years ago. Then Kozume-kun had moved into their vacated flat and set up his bakery, and Ushijima had developed a fondness for the tea there.

He wondered how best to approach Oikawa. Ushijima preferred to be straightforward, but Oikawa, whose tastes apparently ran rather elaborate, would probably not appreciate being asked after a match or in the stairwell. Ushijima would have to get him into some sort of pleasant, private setting and then word his proposition carefully. After all, he could perfectly imagine the man tossing a cup of tea in his face if he were too blunt. He wanted to make his move quickly, as well. He had passed Oikawa a couple of times since Saturday (usually on his morning run), and it was getting harder not to notice the elegant line of his legs, the slight curve of his hips, the genuine sweetness of his smile. For someone who often came across as superficial, Oikawa was honest and kind to those he considered friends, and his cheerful “Good morning” was a thing of beauty indeed.

Ushijima snorted at his own fanciful line of thought. Hadn’t he told Hinata that he needed to follow through with ideas? He’d find an opportunity to get Oikawa alone in a pleasant place, and when the moment came he wouldn’t shy from it. He opened a new tab and started searching for interesting eateries in a one-kilometre radius.

\---

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Guess who I just went out for coffee with!

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Shou-chan. OMG. YOU DON’T MEAN (ノ*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

 **Hinata Shouyou:** YESSSS :D :D :D

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Holy crap, you move fast Shou-chan! I’m impressed!  (￣ω￣ )

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Thank you, Oikawa-san! ^___^

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Where did you go? What did you talk about?

 **Hinata Shouyou:** We were at the Crow, and I treated him to a caramel frap and a muffin, and we were supposed to talk about volleyball but we ended up talking about my work ;D

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Woahhhh you talked to Ushiwaka-chan about non-volleyball stuff?

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Yeah, he didn’t seem to mind though. He said I should stay on topic but he’d talk to me more another time!

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Yayayayayay! So proud of you! o( >ω<)o

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Thank you! He said my work was impressive :D

 **Oikawa Tooru:** So what do you plan next?

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Next?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Yesssss. This is step 1 of your plan complete. He knows something about you now. How will you build up the interest? (*≧ω≦*)

 **Hinata Shouyou:** I hadn’t really thought of it :(((

 **Oikawa Tooru:** That’s okayyyy we’ll think of something  <(￣︶￣)>

 **Hinata Shouyou:** You’re the bestest, Oikawa-san! *__*

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Say nothing of it, Shou-chan! How about...you invite him out to the mall?

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Mall?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** I know it sounds weird, but even Ushiwaka-chan must go shopping sometimes

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Yes, but then it becomes pretty clear that I want it to be a date, right?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Hmmm you’re right. Best not to alarm him (￣ヘ￣)

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Alarm him?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Men who are single for long, Shou-chan, they tend to be like wild horses

 **Oikawa Tooru:** You need to tame them, you know? ヽ(♡‿♡)ノ

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Ieufbeyuehueh

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Huh?

**< You have been added to a group: Operation Hinawaka>**

**< Members: Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro, Matsukawa Issei, Unknown number>**

**Unknown number:** Such a crappy group name, Crappykawa

 **Unknown number:** Iwaizumi here, Hinata

**< Save number as Iwaizumi Hajime>**

**Hinata Shouyou:** Hi Iwaizumi-san!

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Don’t listen to Shittykawa, he knows nothing about asking people out

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Huh?? But hasn’t he dated a lot???

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Yeah, but he’s never actually done the asking out

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : So his opinion is crap

 **Matsukawa Issei:** What Iwaizumi says is true

 **Matsukawa Issei:** And it’s important you remember this

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Important enough that we replied to this ON OUR HONEYMOON

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Hi Hanamaki-san, Matsukawa-san!

 **Hinata Shouyou:** How’s Okinawa?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Great, thanks for asking

 **Matsukawa Issei:** How’s all our old furniture holding up

 **Matsukawa Issei:** I hope the bed isn’t causing you any problems

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Nope, all great!

 **Matsukawa Issei:** Good, glad to see you’re getting some use out of it

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Anyway, back to the topic on hand

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Ushijima is a straightforward kind of guy

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : I think it’s better if you just tell him to his face

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Nooooo don’t listen to Iwa-chan  (＞ｍ＜)

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Iwa-chan is a brute who wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit him on the head with a brick (ノ_ <)

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : ...Subtlety _wouldn’t_ hit me on the head with a brick. Stupidkawa.

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Are you two texting from next to each other

 **Oikawa Tooru:** No? ╮(￣_￣)╭

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Unlike you two

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Iwa-chan’s still at the office (╥﹏╥)

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Iwa-chan shouldn’t be away from Tooru-chan so much

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Don’t call him that

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Don’t call him that! (＞_＜)

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:**...Issei, why do we try

 **Matsukawa Issei:** Yeah, it’s not like they don’t do it to themselves all the time

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Huh?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Never you mind

 **Hinata Shouyou:**...so

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Any ideas on how to approach Ushijima-san?

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Are you sure you want to approach him?

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Iwaizumi-san, do you think I should not try to pursue him?

**< Open Private Chat with Iwa-chan>**

**Oikawa Tooru:** OK are you for real hitting on Hinata ლ(ಠ_ಠ ლ)

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Because really Iwa-chan

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Your sense of timing sucks

 **Iwa-chan** : Shut up, Crappykawa

 **Iwa-chan** : I’m just trying to balance out your stupid enthusiasm

 **Iwa-chan** : If he gets rejected you’ll have a mess on your hands

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Eh, it’s not like they run into each other a lot anyway ┐(￣∀￣)┌

 **Iwa-chan** : God, you have such a shitty personality

**< Open Group Chat: Operation Hinawaka>**

**Iwaizumi Hajime** : I think you should do what _you_ want to do

 **Matsukawa Issei:** BTW

 **Matsukawa Issei:** Not that I mind

 **Matsukawa Issei:** But how did Hiro and I get dragged into this?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Well, I need some trusty cronies to help with certain matchmaking situations

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Every successful man has a few cronies ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : ...I’m leaving

 **Iwaizumi Hajime** : Good luck, Hinata

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Iwa-chaaaaaan (ಥ﹏ಥ)

**< Iwaizumi Hajime has left the chat>**

**Oikawa Tooru:** Ignore stupid Iwa-chan〜(＞＜)〜

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Shou-chan, ask him if he wants to go to Sky Blue City on the weekend

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Have you met with the owner of the gallery there?

 **Hinata Shouyou:** No, not yet

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Great! Then you can get some work done as well (☆▽☆)

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Book an appointment with the owner for the weekend

 **Oikawa Tooru:** And casually ask Ushiwaka-chan to accompany you

 **Hinata Shouyou:** How? I don’t know how to contact him?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** We’ll handle that  <(￣︶￣)>

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Now you can kill two birds with one stone

 **Matsukawa Issei:** We hate to say it

 **Matsukawa Issei:** But Oikawa’s making sense here

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Plus we’ll be back by the weekend, Hinata

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Feel free to drop in

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** We’ll keep some icecream just in case

 **Oikawa Tooru:**...I am not restocking your fridge

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Peanut-butter and  M &M blondies don’t just make themselves, you know.

 **Oikawa Tooru:** I hate you, Makki

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Mattsun, beat him up for me (￣ヘ￣)

 **Matsukawa Issei:** Well

 **Matsukawa Issei:** I can’t promise that

 **Matsukawa Issei:** But I’ll make sure he can’t walk tomorrow

 **Oikawa Tooru:**...

 **Oikawa Tooru:** THERE IS A CHILD PRESENT HAVE SOME SHAME YOU CLOSET EXHIBITIONISTS

 **Hinata Shouyou:** It’s alright Oikawa-san

 **Hinata Shouyou:** I was traumatized at the wedding anyway

 **Matsukawa Issei:** That's all we ever wanted

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** So, Operation Hinawaka is a go?

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Yes

 **Oikawa Tooru:** Commence Stage 1 (≧◡≦)

 **Hinata Shouyou:** Okay!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time in the fic that I've given Hanamaki and Matsukawa voices, and I tried to make them distinguishable. My headcanon is that Hanamaki is the more obvious troll and Matsukawa is quieter but occasionally throws in zingers, haha. This chapter was kind of tough to write; hope you enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7 - Of Samurais and Dimwits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Sugawara Koushi:** HE WANTS TO ASK TOORU OUT
> 
>  **Sugawara Koushi:** HE CAME TO ASK MY PERMISSION LIKE I’M A FEUDAL LORD AND TOORU IS MY VIRGIN DAUGHTER
> 
> \---
> 
> Raed T for minor smut

Hanamaki Takahiro was a supremely happy man. He was currently lying in his bed on a Saturday morning, shoulder-to-shoulder with his brand new husband _._ The words made him a little giddy, even though a full week of sun, sand and sex should have been enough to get used to the idea of spending the rest of his life with Issei. He was glad they’d decided on a leisurely sort of vacation instead of jetting off all over the place taking photographs of everything. Time enough to explore in the years to come, he mused, and tried not to grin outright.  
“You’re ridiculously happy,” Matsukawa said, not even looking up from his phone, “It’s weird.”  
“ _Hey._ Wasn’t the point of this whole exercise making me happy?”  
Matsukawa’s eyes were warm. “Oh? I thought you were doing it for my sake.” He sat up and shifted to pull Hanamaki into the circle of his arms and rubbed his morning stubble on the other’s bare shoulder. “What with how long it took for you to give me an actual _answer._ ”  
“Not my fault you’re some white-picket-fence-obsessed weirdo.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Issei, you had a financial plan in place with estimates on how much we’d need to save to comfortably adopt _cats._ ”  
“Would you rather it be actual human children?”  
Hanamaki froze. “That better be a joke, Issei.”  
Matsukawa chuckled. “Sorry.”

“It’s not _funny_. You know there’s no way I’d do it. Not even for you.”  
“Good. Because you shouldn’t do it for me, but for the child. _Hypothetical_ child. Which we are not having. Ever.” He kissed Hanamaki’s ear, “Our family will be four-legged and eat food out of tins and rip the curtains to shreds.”  
“Don’t say that,” Hanamaki grumbled, “Those curtains ought to last for several generations with how much we shelled out.”  
“I don’t know if that applies to several generations of kitties, though.” Matsukawa relaxed around him, completely surrounding Hanamaki with his warmth, the steady beat of his heart, the slow movement of his chest. He was looking down at his phone again, cheek resting against Hanamaki’s, tapping something with his free hand. “Oikawa’s taking Hinata to meet the gallery owner today. Wanna go with?”  
“Issei. We just got back. Why do you want to move again?”  
“We need to re-establish contact with civilization eventually.”  
“Whyyy?” Hanamaki turned around and straddled his lap, and Matsukawa grinned toothily. “Don’t you want to watch this whole drama play out? It’s gonna be hilarious.”  
“You’re such a sadist. I hope poor Hinata doesn’t actually develop feelings for Ushiwaka.”  
“You don’t see them ever dating seriously, then?”  
Hanamaki gave him a look. “Let me put it this way. Ushiwaka is a nice dude, but kind of thick. For him to consider you as some sort of...anything, you need to register on his radar. So you either have to be a volleyball idiot like Kageyama, a vivacious little snowflake like Oikawa, a modern-day samurai like Iwaizumi, or a clown like Kuroo or Bokuto. Hinata is too young and too nervous to register. And that won’t work out for him.”

“Is that so?” Matsukawa’s hands slid under his pyjama shirt, seeking out the dimples at the small of his back. “Is that your professional opinion, Hanamaki-sensei?”  
Hanamaki grinned and whispered into his ear, “Hardly, but would you like me to use medical terminology, Matsukawa-san?”  He ground his hips down in a gentle circle, the low embers in his stomach starting to get stoked. “I’m sure I can find an old lab coat somewhere. Are you in need of urgent medical attention?” Matsukawa’s eyes met his, pupils dilated, and he licked his lips unconsciously. “Hiro, were you serious about staying in all day?”  
Hanamaki leaned forward and kissed him, and he wasn’t sure which one of them moaned louder. Hanamaki’s tongue swiped Matsukawa's lower lip and then entered his mouth, tracing his teeth. He angled his head, slotting their mouths together, sucking on Matsukawa's tongue. Matsukawa’s hands slid to his ass and he gave it a pinch, and Hanamaki yelped and broke the kiss. “Ow, nasty.”  
Matsukawa kissed his ear in apology. “C’mon, we haven’t seen our friends in a week. If you do this now we won't leave the bed all day.”  
Hanamaki rolled his eyes. “Please, it’s not like those two dimwits haven’t been texting us every fucking day.”  
“The samurai and the dimwit, you mean?”  
“Huh. Sounds like a romantic drama. _The Samurai and the Dimwit._ ”  
Hanamaki brought up his phone and scrolled through their group chat with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, looking at the pictures they’d sent.

 _Look! Iwa-chan made brunch with me! (Photo attached)_  
_Lolol Iwa-chan met this puppy outside the grocery store and now it won’t stop following him (Photo attached)_  
_Crappykawa got mobbed by fans who thought he was that idol. (Photo attached)_  
_OK we went to see Koushi and Daichi and Kusumi FELL ASLEEP ON IWA-CHAN THIS IS SOOOO PRECIOUS (Photo attached)_  
_Iwa-chan is such a brute you guys he bet me that he’d beat me at arm-wrestling and then made me pay for his dinner when he won (Photo attached)_  
_Guys I found the perfect idea for my next dressup with Iwa-chan! (Photo attached)_  
_Proof that Shittykawa drools when he sleeps (Photo attached)_

“I thought I was imagining it when I met them,” Matsukawa said, shaking his head.  
“Nope, they’ve been the same since college.”  
“Well, one is a samurai who represses emotions and the other is a dimwit.”  
“He really isn’t, though.” Hanamaki said thoughtfully. “That’s what surprises me. This whole bias against Kageyama aside, he’s usually on point where people’s emotions are concerned. How come he can read Iwaizumi perfectly outside of this?”  
“Question for the ages.” Matsukawa frowned. “Do you think the tension will build up to a crescendo until they bang?”  
“And thank you for ruining the mood,” Hanamaki grumbled. “Also, is it even possible that nobody except us has noticed?”  
“Pretty sure Koushi-nii is waiting for them to realize. Daichi’s probably forcing him not to interfere at this point.”  
“Should we ask them?”  
“I’ll create a group.”  
“You _always_ create a chat group.”  
“Because then I can control the flow of conversation.”  
“What are you talking about? Oikawa always hijacks it.”  
“Which is why he’s not here. I’ll just make it the four of us for now.”

**< You have been added to the group chat: The Samurai and the Dimwit>  
<Group members: Daichi, Koushi-niisan, Issei>**

**Hanamaki Takahiro:** You lovebirds awake yet?

 **Koushi-niisan:** We have kids, Makkun. What do you think?

 **Koushi-niisan:** Daichi’s giving them a bath and I’m making breakfast

 **Koushi-niisan:** Thank goodness for Kageyama, we at least get to sleep in a little

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You free?

 **Koushi-niisan:** I’m cooking, but I can text

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** We were just wondering if you knew about those two?

 **Koushi-niisan:** Who two?

 **Issei:** Look at the group name and hazard a guess, Koushi-nii

 **Koushi-niisan:** MY GOD

 **Koushi-niisan:** YOU GUYS SEE IT TOO?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Too?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I’ll have you know I endured those two for FOUR years nii-san

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Through countless one-night stands and boyfriends and girlfriends who all got sick of it and left

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Remember Leo?

 **Koushi-niisan:** God yes. The philosophy major.

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** HAIR. EVERYWHERE.

 **Koushi-niisan:** He was cute though, and he really liked Tooru until he decided he couldn't deal with Hajime

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I borrowed their shower once after he stayed the night

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** SO MUCH HAIR NII-SAN

 **Koushi-niisan:** Don’t be mean, it’s not like he could help the hair fall

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** IT LOOKED LIKE A HAIRY MONSTER WAS TRYING TO CLIMB OUT OF THE DRAIN

 **Koushi-niisan:** Makkun, you're straying from the topic at hand

 **Koushi-niisan:** Don’t be so dramatic

 **Koushi-niisan:** That’s Tooru’s job

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You’re pretty mean to him, eh?

 **Koushi-niisan:** Well, who do you think kept him in line before Hajime came along?

 **Koushi-niisan:** I was much more polite about it, though

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I don’t know whether to appreciate Daichi or envy him

 **Issei:** You type that while you’re in bed. Next to me. Naked.

 **Koushi-niisan:** Gah, don’t talk to me, you newlyweds

 **Koushi-niisan:** I wish Daichi and I had the time to just lie in bed naked

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** TMI

 **Koushi-niisan:** Nowadays it’s all wham, bam, thank you ma’am

 **Issei:** TMI KOUSHI-NII

 **Koushi-niisan:** Well, it’s not _bad_ , seeing as it’s Daichi

 **Koushi-niisan:** Woot, breakfast is done

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I’m assuming you need to feed and see off the monkeys

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** So take your time

 **Issei:** Also, going back to the original topic

 **Issei:** Do you think they’ll ever change the status quo?

 **Daichi:**...thanks, Koushi.

 **Daichi:** He’s feeding the kids

 **Daichi:** What do you mean?

 **Issei:** Oh, you bathe the kids and he feeds them? Nice teamwork

 **Daichi:** Thank you :)

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** We were talking about your brother and brother-in-law

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Do you think they’ll ever move on from the best friends shtick?

 **Daichi:** I wish I could say they would

 **Daichi:** But things seem surprisingly okay with them dating other people

 **Daichi:** So I’m not sure

 **Issei:**...yeah right

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Surprisingly okay, he says

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You weren’t around for the drama, Daichi

 **Daichi:** Eh? What drama?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** It’s just that these two never realized it

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** But the drama was because of each other

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Like that blond Oikawa dated in final year

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** He called Oikawa Daddy to stake his claim

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** And both Oikawa and Iwaizumi just assumed he was being too open

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Instead of freaking jealous

 **Daichi:**...that’s more than I ever wanted to know about Oikawa’s sex life

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** And that exhibitionist, Natsume

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** He ended up doing it with Kuroo on the stairs and timing it so that these two stumbled upon them

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** And Iwaizumi just assumed he was hooking up with Kuroo

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** But he was trying to make Iwaizumi jealous enough to take him back

 **Daichi:** Why did they break up despite him liking Hajime that much?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Take a guess

 **Daichi:** Oh god, really?

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Yeah. He attended one of the monthly brunches with these two

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** And decided that Oikawa and Iwaizumi needed to stop hanging around each other so much

 **Daichi:** He actually told Hajime that?

 **Issei:** Don’t be stupid

 **Issei:** He was jealous, not suicidal

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** He merely tried to monopolize Iwaizumi’s time

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** He gave up after a couple of weeks, though

**< Select conversation with Natsume Jun>  
<Send to group: The Samurai and the Dimwit>**

**Daichi:**...he drunk texted you for sympathy?

 **Daichi:** People still do that?

 **Daichi:** I’m surprised Hajime dated someone who used SMS language though

 **Daichi:** I remember him actually training Oikawa out of it

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You’re such an old man

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** Anyway, do you think they’ll ever realize

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** It’s been 9 years man

 **Daichi:** Suga says we should just leave it to them

 **Daichi:** People can’t be forced into these type of things

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You’re so whipped

 **Daichi:** Careful

 **Daichi:** I know someone who threw a tantrum about a chocolate fountain on his fiance’s behalf

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I gave Kenma a bonus for dealing with me okay

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** And Mattsun’s loved chocolate fountains since we were small

 **Issei:** I’m gonna kiss you now

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** I’m gonna kiss you back

 **Daichi:** And you guys say I’m whipped

 **Daichi:** (Which for the record I am _not_ denying, Koushi.)

 **Daichi:** Ok I gotta go

 **Daichi:** The munchkins are playing with breakfast

 **Hanamaki Takahiro:** You brought this upon yourselves

 **Daichi:** I know :)))

 **Daichi:** Also I know I sound like an old man

 **Daichi:** But this is the first week of your lives together

 **Daichi:** So happy for you! Enjoy it!

“Did Dadchi just hint at us to have lots of sex?” Hanamaki asked, horrified.  
“Mmm, I don’t know. Pancakes are enjoyable too.”  
“Good. Go make some.”  
“Your turn.”  
“Isseiiiiii.” If Matsukawa ever told anyone that Hanamaki whined when he didn’t get his way, he was a dead man.  
“I made breakfast on five out of seven days.” Matsukawa countered.  
“Fine! I’ll owe you.” Hanamaki kissed him lightly on the mouth, and Matsukawa remembered the chocolate fountain and returned it with interest.  
“When will you pay back what you owe me?” he teased once they broke off.  
“I don’t know. Next week? Next month? Next year?” Matsukawa’s eyes widened – Hanamaki was so rarely sentimental.“Next decade?” Hanamaki finished in a whisper, and pressed their foreheads together.  
“You know, I was reading one of the munchkins’ books, about this funny bear. I forgot the name.”  
“...okay?”  
“He’s best friends with this little pig, and they’re talking. And he says something that...” Matsukawa cleared his throat, and recited, “If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.”  
Hanamaki was silent for a long moment, then he turned into Matsukawa’s shoulder and hid his face against his neck. His voice, when it came out, was wet with tears. “Fuck. You’re the worst, Issei.”  
“I know,” Matsukawa kissed his temple. “So, which is it going to be - chocolate syrup, or maple?”

\---

Ushijima Wakatoshi was a man with a plan. Then again, that description was so cliché as to be lacklustre, and as a writer he could do better. He pulled the light jacket tighter around himself as he walked out his door, his mental to-do list for the day set. First on his agenda was to visit The Crow and the Coffee Pot, where he hoped to talk to Sugawara about his brother, Oikawa. Somehow, it seemed like the correct thing to do. Oikawa was an adult but Sugawara was his brother, a person Ushijima’s age who had played against him a few times – it felt sensible to approach him first, if only for old times’ sake. He also had some paperwork to complete for his upcoming trip to London. He briefly wondered if it were better to let the Oikawa matter off until after his trip, but goodness knew how long he’d be there. Besides, despite Oikawa assuring him that Iwaizumi was merely a friend, he didn’t like the idea of letting things lie for too long. He was by no means a master of interpersonal interaction, but he couldn’t shake off a feeling of uncertainty where those two were concerned.

He pushed open the door to the Coffee Pot and looked to the counter, pleased to find Sugawara there. He raised a hand in acknowledgement and Sugawara smiled in return. Ushijima noticed Hinata operating the machine and nodded in acknowledgement, receiving a bright smile in return. He stood in line behind a couple of customers, and only realized he was expected to order something when Sugawara stood smiling at him expectantly. Automatically, he replicated the order Hinata had made for him the other day – decaf caramel frappucino – and paid, depositing his change into the charity box on the counter. He took a seat at a double-seater in the corner and sat looking out into the March morning until his order was called. When he went to take it from Sugawara he leaned in and whispered, “Sugawara-san, I’d like a moment of your time whenever you’re free.”  
Sugawara looked surprised, but nodded, “I’ll be there in a few minutes. The morning rush is almost over.”

A few minutes later Ushijima looked up to find Sugawara sliding into the chair opposite him, cup of tea in hand. “It’s been a while, Ushijima-san.”  
“Indeed.” Ushijima wasn’t great at small talk, but he tried. “I trust the cafe is doing well?”  
Sugawara smiled, genuinely happy. “Wonderful, I’m glad to say. The locals really have taken a shining to it, I think. The neighbourhood is flush with our target demographic.”  
“I’m glad for you. Are your husband and children doing well?”  
Sugawara raised his eyebrows, but answered, “Doing great, thank you. Daichi’s still involved in the stock market. The kids are in kindergarten. Is there something I can help you with, Ushijima-san?”  
Straight to the point then. “I actually came here to enquire about your brother.”  
“Enquire about Tooru?” Sugawara blinked, “Well, what about him?”  
“I had the pleasure of lunching with him the other day.”  
“Okay.”  
“And afterward he told me there is nothing between him and Iwaizumi.”  
Sugawara cleared his throat. “That is quite correct. Hajime and he are close, but not dating.” _Yet_ , he wanted to add, but he was fairly sure Daichi would kill him for starting rumours like that.  
“Good. Because I am interested in Oikawa,” Ushijima stated, and Sugawara seemed to choke on his tea. “What, romantically? _Tooru_?”  
“I know we seem to be very contrasting, but I respect his abilities as a professional and as a setter. I think he would make an interesting partner.”  
“Interesting? I hope you’re not planning to mount him on a display and charge people, Ushijima-san,” Koushi knew he was being hyperbolic, but really, did Ushijima realize what it meant to date his brother? He could barely imagine the two of them having anything in common, let alone _enjoying themselves_ together.  
“I assure you that I am not an exhibitionist, and I will treasure Oikawa,” Ushijima intoned, completely serious. “I feel he is a nice, positive person who is socially adept, which I am not, so he can aid me in that direction. I am also well-read and well-travelled and can make interesting conversation. I am open-minded about his needs and willing to accommodate them. Is there anything else?”  
“Anything else? Ushijima-san...” how could Koushi begin to explain? He was at a complete loss as to how to summarize why his brother and the man currently sitting opposite him would be a match made in _hell_ , for both of them. He tried to imagine Ushijima across the dinner-table, kissing his brother and smiling at his children, and utterly failed – never mind that he had almost subconsciously been imagining his brother-in-law there for years. Then he imagined the sheer awkwardness of Ushijima, Oikawa _and_ Iwaizumi at his table, and the horror of the scenario was what compelled him to raise a hand and signal Hinata to call Daichi from the kitchen.

His husband emerged almost immediately, apron barely containing his broad frame, wiping his hands on a towel. He approached their table and sat down without preamble. “What happened?”  
Koushi decided to throw him off the deep end. “Ushijima wants to date Tooru. What do you think?”  
Daichi blinked and looked utterly dumbfounded. “You want to date Oikawa?”  
“That is what I have told Sugawara.”  
“But why?”  
Ushijima had had some time to gather his thoughts, and they came out much more smoothly this time. “He’s a good tactician, socially adept and reads people well, professionally successful, pleasant to talk to and physically attractive. I feel we will make a highly compatible couple, and I can keep him entertained through my knowledge across a broad range of subjects.”  
“That’s great,” Daichi said calmly, “But Oikawa isn’t a child. You don’t talk _at_ him, you talk _to_ him, and let me tell you he argues quite a bit.”  
“That is alright. I am openminded enough to accept varied points of view.”  
“He plays K-pop and J-pop at all hours.”  
“I can wear ear plugs.”  
“He’ll drag people he knows into crazy cosplay and dressup schemes, and post the pictures on Facebook.”  
“I don’t have a Facebook account.”  
“He owes half of his good looks to makeup.”  
“I will not be turned off by any physical imperfections.”  
“Ushijima-san,” Daichi said impatiently, “I’m not going to tell you not to pursue Oikawa, but I will tell you that there is a lot more to him than those points you counted on your fingers. If you are genuinely interested, you’re both adults and I won’t stop you. But make allowance for reality to fall short of your expectations.”  
“ _What are you saying?”_ Koushi hissed in his ear as Ushijima nodded obediently. “ _Tooru will kill us!”_  
“I respect what you’re saying, Sawamura-kun,” Ushijima said surprisingly, “I think I should ask you as well – is Oikawa currently interested in someone else?”  
“Not that we know of,” Daichi said, “But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll agree to date you, does it?”  
“And you suspect he may not be interested in me that much, is that it?” Ushijima was a lot more perceptive than Daichi gave him credit for.  
“I can’t say for sure, but he’s never given indications of any romantic feelings towards you.”  
“Yet he may not be incapable of them altogether.”  
“No, he may not.”  
Koushi shot Daichi a look that said _Stop getting his hopes up!_ And Daichi shrugged in reply.

Ushijima, oblivious to their concern, thanked them and headed out the door. They watched it swing shut, then Koushi turned on Daichi, ready to yell, and Daichi pressed a silencing finger against his mouth.  
“I _know_ we’re both thinking of Hajime, but like I said they’re both adults. If Ushijima wants to ask Oikawa out he has the right to do it without us interfering. And if Hajime wanted Oikawa, well, he should have made his move by now.”  
“Shouldn’t we at least tell Tooru?” Koushi rested his chin on his palm and sighed. “I’m pretty sure he’s not aware of any such feelings on Ushijima’s part. It’ll be better for him to be prepared.”  
“I suppose,” Daichi said reluctantly, “I’d pay to see his face when Ushijima asks him out, though.”  
“I’d pay to see Hajime’s,” Koushi grinned gleefully, and Daichi had to roll his eyes. “Please, it’s not like he hasn’t had that exact scenario play out since college.”  
“Tooru _is_ unfairly pretty,” Koushi pouted, “Then again, he puts some effort into maintaining himself.”  
“Yeah, you on the other hand have really let yourself go,” Daichi deadpanned. “It’s not like you haven’t aged in ten years or anything.”  
“Careful, I might dump you for a younger model if you keep that up.” Koushi smiled at him, warm and intimate, and tugged on Daichi’s apron strap. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen?”  
“I would, but I don’t look as good slaving over a hot stove.” Daichi got up and went back to the kitchen anyway, and if Koushi’s eyes lingered on the fit of his pants...well, so did everyone else’s.

“Um, Suga-san?” Hinata asked tentatively as Suga returned to the cash counter, rearranging notes in the machine as was his habit, “That was Ushijima-san, right?”  
Something about his tone made Koushi turn and regard him fully. “Yes, I believe you met him the other day?”  
“He...did he talk about anything in particular? Anyone?” Hinata asked, trying and failing not to blush.  
“Not really,” Koushi said automatically, “Wait, you’re interested in him? That was quick, Hinata.”  
“Ah, um, well, Oikawa-san said we’d make a nice couple. And we came here for coffee the other day.” Hinata was full-on blushing now, and Koushi couldn’t believe his ears. “ _You_? With Ushijima? Hinata, he’s – I don’t want to discourage you, but he’s my age. Don’t you think you’d suit someone a little...?”  
“Ah, maybe. I’m not sure whether to pursue him yet, just thinking about it. If he doesn’t like anyone in particular then that’s a start, I guess.”  
Koushi nearly broke down and told him _The one he likes is my stupid brother and I can’t for the life of me see why_ , but that was an issue better handled by Oikawa. So he merely smiled and said, “Well, but think things through, okay? You’re really impulsive about all this, Hinata.”  
“I know, Suga-san. Thanks!”

And once Hinata’s back was turned, Koushi opened the chat group with his husband and their brothers and proceeded to type furiously.

\---

**< Open Chat Group: Siblings Quartet>**

**Sugawara Koushi:** Oikawa Tooru, what have you gotten yourself into??

 **Hajime:** He’s out running

 **Hajime:** What happened, nii-san?

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Well, ask me what hasn’t happened

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Hajime, is it just me or are you too lenient with him

 **Hajime:**???

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Do you just let Tooru run riot?

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Ushijima Wakatoshi just walked out of my cafe

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Do you know why he came in?

 **Hajime:** Coffee?

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Well, yes

 **Sugawara Koushi:** But also

 **Sugawara Koushi:** HE WANTS TO ASK TOORU OUT

 **Sugawara Koushi:** HE CAME TO ASK MY PERMISSION LIKE I’M A FEUDAL LORD AND TOORU IS MY VIRGIN DAUGHTER

 **Hajime:** Calm down, nii-san

 **Sugawara Koushi:** You don’t seem surprised

 **Hajime:** I stopped being surprised after our first Valentine’s day in college

 **Hajime:** Anyway, I think he was asking Oikawa if he was single after lunch that day

 **Hajime:** So I’m not surprised

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Well then, on to the second part of my report

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Hinata says he’s interested in Ushiwaka???!

 **Sugawara Koushi:** And apparently my brother said they’d look nice together

 **Sugawara Koushi:** I can’t believe he’s pulling this again

 **Hajime:** Again?

 **Sugawara Koushi:** He tried setting up one of his classmates with his friend in high school

 **Sugawara Koushi:** But the classmate didn’t know he was gay so she fell in love with him instead

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Very messy, and Tooru got a black eye out of it

 **Hajime:** Wait what? This guy hit Oikawa?

 **Sugawara Koushi:** It wasn’t the guy, it was the girl

 **Hajime:** Wow

 **Hajime:** Can I meet her and shake her hand?

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Why shake her hand?

 **Hajime:** The hand which dealt Oikawa what he deserves

 **Hajime:** I need to shake that hand

 **Sugawara Koushi:** LOL

 **Sugawara Koushi:** You’re all talk, Hajime

 **Sugawara Koushi:** More like you’d twist her hand out of shape for touching Tooru

 **Hajime:** Well

 **Hajime:** Maybe

 **Hajime:** Anyway, I’ll deal with him when he comes back

 **Sugawara Koushi:** Good, and tell him to sort this out ASAP

 **Sugawara Koushi:** I can’t have my working relationship with my employee ruined because my brother is an idiot

 **Hajime:** Pretty sure it won’t go that far, nii-san

\---

“Good run?” Iwa-chan enquired from the couch as Oikawa entered his flat, water bottle in hand. It was such a regular occurrence that Oikawa wasn’t even surprised. Instead he said, “What’s with that tone, Iwa-chan?”

Iwa-chan waved his phone. “Check the brothers group. Koushi messaged there about half an hour back. You’ve gone and done it now, Trashykawa.”  
“Done what?”  
“Ushijima wants to ask you out,” Iwaizumi said bluntly, and Oikawa stared.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Ushijima Wakatoshi? Tall, writes books, spikes like mad? He went to the shop and met Daichi and nii-san, and says he’s interested in you.”  
“ _Oh My God_ , this is like high school again.”  
“Yeah, nii-san mentioned. About that girl who fell in love with you?” Hajime crossed his arms. “Funny you never told me about that, Assikawa.”  
“What does that have to do with _anything_?”  
“It means your disastrous setting-up history is longer than I expected.”  
“Ugh. That incident just brings it up to six.”  
“Six out of seven attempts, eight if you count our brothers. This just gets worse and worse. And Hinata was there, by the way, which means Ushijima may have encouraged him unknowingly. Check your phone.”

Oikawa trudged into the shower to wash up and emerged a few minutes later in a tee and his boxers. He sat down next to Iwaizumi, who was now reading something on his phone. Without looking up, Iwa-chan said, “Check. Your. Phone.”  
Oikawa did, very reluctantly. “Oh my god, there’s five messages from him.”  
“Great, now how are you going to get him to dial back?”  
“Does he need to dial back?”  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Shittykawa. Do you really want Hinata to ask Ushiwaka out and be rejected?”  
“Of course not, but if Ushiwaka gets the idea that I’m not interested—”  
“And you’re sure you’re not?”  
“Iwa-chan, have you ever seen me be interested and not make a move?”  
“Point taken. How will you let him know you’re not interested?”  
Oikawa got a gleam in his eye. “Well—”  
“Absolutely _not_ , Shittykawa.”  
“I didn’t say anything.”  
“I am not pretending to be your boyfriend.”  
Oikawa’s mouth dropped open. “How did you—”

“How long have I known you?” Iwa-chan crossed his arms and stood firm. “That is the worst plan, not least because he’ll realize it’s a ruse the moment we get back to normal. Ushiwaka isn’t socially smart, but he’s observant. And I am not playing kissy-face with you to save your dignity.”  
“You’re so meaaaan, Iwa-chan. Even if you offered to defend my dignity against Mika-chan.”  
“The girl who punched you?”  
“Mmhmm. Mean right hook. I wonder what she’s up to now.”  
“Hopefully using it on someone who can actually fight back.”  
“ _Hey._ ”  
“You were skinny throughout high school and until second year.”  
“ _Lanky_ is the word, Iwa-chan. Willowy. Graceful.”  
Iwaizumi simply looked up at the ceiling in resignation.  
“Anyway, don’t you think distracting Ushijima with Hinata might work?”  
“What is he, a toddler? If he’s interested in you he won’t just train his attention elsewhere.”  
“People sometimes do.”  
“I have news for you. That’s a rebound, and the person involved usually suffers. Which you expressly denied ever having to happen in this great scheme.”  
“I couldn’t predict Ushiwaka-chan!” Oikawa huffed, “We’ve known him for _years_ , why now? What terrible timing is this?”  
“It’s the universe conspiring against you. Most people would take a hint.”  
“So rude. Anyway, Hinata’s putting his plan into action next weekend.”  
“You came up with an actual plan?”  
“I did – I just didn’t expect him to implement it so promptly. The visit to the shop must have improved his confidence.”  
“I don’t want to ask, but I have to. What’s the plan?”  
“Why do you _have_ to ask?”  
“Your brother. And mine. Now will you tell me?”  
“Well, we decided that Hinata would say he’s going to Sky Blue City and ask Ushiwaka-chan if he wants to come along. I introduced him to the owner of the gallery there yesterday.”  
“How do you know her?”  
“We did a campaign for her gallery. Nice lady, very classy and intelligent. Plus she’s gorgeous.”

Iwa-chan perked up dramatically, and Oikawa smacked his shoulder. “Don’t suddenly look interested! Anyway, Kiyoko-san examined his work for like two hours and she’s saying they might be interested in a trial run. Their lawyer’s drawing up an exclusive access contract or something.”  
“That’s great for Hinata.”  
“So apparently Ushiwaka-chan told Hinata that he should actively pursue his goals or something. So if Hinata shows this as proof then Ushiwaka-chan will be impressed, right?”  
“So we’re trying to convince him that Hinata is an actual adult.”  
“ _Rude,_ but accurate.”  
Iwaizumi sighed. “He’s still moving too fast, I think. Ushiwaka takes a few years to develop an attraction to someone, apparently.”  
“I’m pretty sure all I have to do is assure him that I’m not interested. Stop worrying.”  
“Why aren’t you, though?”  
“Iwa-chan, what kind of question is that?”  
“Well, you can be sure he’s going to ask the same. And you seem to think he’s a great catch.”  
“I can think of faster ways to commit suicide, Iwa-chan. Do you think I can stand to be around someone that blunt all the time? It’ll offend my delicate feelings.”  
“I’m pretty blunt.”  
“You’re a tsundere, that doesn’t count.”  
“I am _not_ a tsundere.”  
“It’s ok, Iwa-chan, it’s part of your charm.”  
Iwa-chan whacked him with one of the couch cushions. “Forget about me and fix this situation.”  
Oikawa held up his phone. “I already gave him instructions on what to say, don’t worry.”

“Oikawa,” Iwa-chan said exasperatedly, “Is that kid doing _anything_ of his own volition?”  
“He’s _following my advice_ of his own volition.”  
“Fine, but if Ushijima hits on you, you are _not_ allowed to involve me.”  
“It’s ok, he already asked me if we were dating last week and I said no.”  
“...”  
“What?”  
“That never gave you the idea that he’s interested in _you_? You suck at this.”  
“You won’t be saying that when I fix this.”  
“ _If_.”  
“What are we doing for lunch?” Oikawa deliberately changed the subject.  
“Are you really hungry?”  
“Starving.”  
“Then feed yourself. It’s just rice and curry for me.”  
“You’re being so horrible today. What’s the occasion?”  
“Nothing. Just giving you what you deserve.”  
"Mean, Iwa-chan. _Mean._ "  
Iwaizumi got up and headed to Oikawa's kitchen. "Guess I'm making lunch here then."  
"What are we having for dessert?"  
"Nothing. You can have whatever, but I'm trying to cut down on calories."  
"I know! Check the freezer."  
There was a brief silence and Iwa-chan stuck his head out.  
"Low-fat froyo?"  
"I thought we'd try it," Oikawa chirped, still looking at his phone. "I need to start watching my weight as well."  
Iwaizumi was grateful that Oikawa didn't get a look at his face.  
"Okay," he said to himself, stupidly staring at the carton of strawberry yogurt. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha sorry no fake relationship, this situation is already so complicated and I need to write my way out of it! Also I _swear_ I will write smut to completion eventually, instead of interrupting it lol
> 
> Writing DaiSuga is always so nice, these two are so pure ❤️ And Iwaoi banter is the most fun to write. Iwa-chan is such a tsundere. Writing Iwaoi from an outside perspective was very enjoyable and helped me establish more aspects of their relationship :) Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Chapter 8: Of Missteps and Misinterpretations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I recommend the Death by Chocolate,” Kuroo said, leaning in, “I can vouch for the fact that it’s delicious, believe me.”
> 
>  _Doesn’t sound like you’re talking about the cake,_ Oikawa thought.
> 
> This one is my biggest chapter yet~ 
> 
> \---
> 
> Rated T for mentions of sex.

It was nearing the end of shift on Monday, the day after Ushijima Wakatoshi had walked into the cafe, ordered the _same_ frappucino Hinata had ordered for him on Wednesday, nodded at him and talked urgently to Suga-san for quite a while. Hinata had been manning the coffee machine and couldn’t overhear what they were saying, and his curiosity had only increased when Suga-san called for Daichi-san from the kitchen. Finally, on the pretext of clearing the neighbouring table, he’d heard Daichi-san say “ _But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll agree to date you, does it?”_ and Ushijima-san had said, “ _And you suspect he may not be interested in me that much, is that it?”_ and Hinata had tried not to get his hopes up, but he’d wanted to interrupt when Daichi said he’d not given any romantic indications and say “Yes! I’m interested!”

 Needing reassurance still, he’d texted Oikawa-san who’d encouraged him to bite the bullet. So if he didn’t accidentally run into Ushijima-san by Friday, Hinata Shouyou was going to go to the penthouse floor in Aoba Johsai Apartments, ring the doorbell and issue an invitation for Ushijima to join him for the final negotiation meeting at The Raven’s Nest, one of the most exclusive interior design galleries in town. This would doubtless impress Ushijima, who was a known patron of the gallery. The meeting was supposed to be brief – he’d already emailed Kiyoko-san’s contract to his family lawyer, and they’d okayed everything – so the signing was only a small formality and they'd be in and out in a few minutes. And then Ushijima could join Hinata for a celebratory lunch afterward. Hinata would have normally have winced at the blow to his wallet, but the gallery was giving him a handsome advance. Kiyoko-san’s assistant, a kind young lady named Yachi-san, had given him some great ideas for future projects. He was honestly surprised at how nice the two of them had been, and could hardly believe months of contacting individual places on his own had yielded less than what Oikawa Tooru could do with a single phone call.

Even if the thing with Ushijima-san didn’t work out, Hinata mused, he still owed Oikawa-san a _lot._ He made a note to create something beautiful as a thank-you gift. Maybe a carving of Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san, but wait – he mentally smacked himself on the head – wouldn’t that be incredibly couple-y? They were doubtless close friends and important to one another, but carving them together had an almost matrimonial insinuation to it. Yet he couldn’t imagine Oikawa-san without Iwaizumi-san at his side, no matter how he tried. In fact, the only time he’d seen the former without the latter had been that match the weekend before. He hadn’t gone to the match on Sunday because he’d overexcited himself with Ushijima’s appearance, but he’d heard from Bokuto that Oikawa and Iwaizumi had been great together as usual. He promised himself that they’d play together the coming weekend.

“Hinata,” Kageyama called out, and Hinata tried not to flinch. He’d been acting normal with Kageyama the past week, and if Kageyama suspected anything was up he wasn’t giving any indication. Hinata reminded himself that he had nothing to feel guilty for as he said, “What?”  
“Um, wanna go out for ramen after this?” Kageyama asked.  
Hinata stared at him, and Kageyama stared back, blue eyes unflinching. “We haven’t hung out since last week,” Kageyama continued, “and you didn’t play with us yesterday either.”  
“I, uh, had some work,” Hinata said weakly, “Um, about the ramen...”  
“You must have plans right? Forget I asked.” Kageyama’s voice was steady, but his shoulders drooped the tiniest bit and his eyes shifted away, and Hinata felt like an absolute dick. He’d gone shopping with the guy and made pizza with him, for goodness’ sake. Of course Kageyama was entitled to assume there would be a repeat sometime. It had been comfortable, enjoyable and very much _not_ a date, so what on earth was he trying to avoid?  
He heard himself say, “Nope, I’m free. Know any good ramen places nearby?”  
Kageyama nodded. “There’s this izekaya a few blocks away, my old coach from high school runs it. I usually go there.”  
“Can’t stay away from the volleyball, eh, Kageyama-kun?”  
Kageyama flushed. “I actually haven’t gone there since my injury – high time I show my face. Don’t be embarrassed if he scolds me, he’s kind of like a dad except he drinks, smokes and swears too much.”  
“Sounds like a nice guy.”  
And Kageyama actually _smiled_ and said, “He is.”  
Hinata was still reeling from that smile when Kageyama looked at the clock and hummed. “Few minutes left, and here comes Narita-san. Hurry up and get your stuff, I’ll give him the keys.”  
Hinata bundled himself up in a scarf as Kageyama spoke to Narita, who would close up for the day. Then they walked out into the cold evening, Hinata pulling his messenger back closer and Kageyama with his hands in his pockets.

When they walked into the izakaya, the man behind the bar glanced and them and then did a double take. His cigarette hung from his lips, his hair was bleached and held back by a hairband and he had two piercings in his left ear, and all in all he probably wasn’t older than thirty-five. “Well, well, look who decided to make an appearance. Too high and mighty to come see this old man, eh, Tobio?”  
“Coach,” Kageyama reached across the bartop, and the coach shook his with one hand and thumped him on the shoulder with the other. “Sorry, I know it’s been too long.”  
“’S alright, I made sure to keep an eye on you,” the Coach said vaguely, and Kageyama said, “I know, she isn’t exactly subtle. This is Hinata, he works with me at the coffee shop.”  
Hinata said hello, and then they were being ushered into the corner table. Kageyama recommended the house special ramen and a craft beer, and Hinata went along with him. To his surprise, the owner came and sat down at their table with their orders and a beer of his own. “I hope you don’t mind,” Coach said to him, “I haven’t seen this fucker around in a long time.”  
“It’s okay,” Hinata assured him quickly, “I like volleyball as well.”  
“He joined the neighbourhood game last weekend,” Kageyama said, and for some reason Coach’s eyebrows shot up. “No kidding. What do you play, Hinata-kun?”  
“I’m a middle blocker, but I was the ace for my high school.”  
“Oh, I see. Small Giant-type, huh?” Ukai smiled at him encouragingly, “What do you do now?”  
“Um, I went into the family business. We make artisanal figurines; I’m trying to find commissions here now.” Hinata knew his commission was practically in the bag, but superstition compelled him to refute it until it actually happened. “I’m staying in Aoba Johsai Apartments till then.”  
“Hmm, with a flatmate, right? The rent there is reasonable but still.”  
“Yeah, with a flatmate.”

Coach nodded thoughtfully and then turned to Kageyama, who had been enthusiastically attacking his ramen the entire time. “I heard you passed the fitness test? Fuki told me.”  
Kageyama nodded. “I’ve been doing my physical therapy properly all this time.”  
“Good. You were released early from your contract, right? Any other teams showing interest in you yet? But Tokyo will snap you right up, I think.”  
“Hitoka-chan is handling all that.”  
Hinata couldn’t help glancing sideways at Kageyama. It was odd to hear the cutesy honorific fall from his mouth, and Hitoka-chan must be someone special.  
Kageyama explained, “Hitoka-chan is my part-time assistant, she’s been with me since I started playing professionally. I think you’ll like her.”  
“I haven’t seen her around either,” Coach said, “All her news was through the phone. Bring her here sometime.”  
Kageyama shrugged. “Work keeps her busy, and she seems to like her new boss a lot. I think I’ll have to let her go soon.”  
“That would be a pity,” Coach sighed, “She’s a nice girl, she is. Well, you can’t stop children from spreading their wings, I guess.”  
“I guess,” Kageyama echoed, “Another bowl of ramen, please. Hinata?”  
“One for me too,” Hinata confirmed, “These are great, Coach-san!”  
Coach laughed. “I guess I didn’t tell you my name, huh? It’s Ukai, Ukai Keishin.”  
“How’s Takeda-sensei doing?” Kageyama asked him, “Still chasing after that chemistry teacher?”  
Ukai flashed a grin, “For all the good it’ll do him. But no, we found out she was pregnant by the vice-principal. All you young people with your indiscriminate sex.”  
Both Hinata and Kageyama flushed, and Ukai cackled. “Relax, Tobio, I know you’re not that kind of guy. Too volleyball-minded to go sneaking about with girls. Take-chan’s fine, he’ll recover soon enough. You want me to get you anything else?”

Hinata and Kageyama decided on a second round of beers before heading out. They shifted to the bar, and Ukai-san kept them entertained with gossip while he catered to the patrons – the place was getting pretty crowded now, the office crowd having come in after a long day at work. Apparently Ukai-san was forty but barely looked thirty-five, and he had no shortage of phone numbers being slid across the bartop in the short time Hinata and Kageyama were there. He seemed to know Kageyama quite well, calling him by name and confiding in Hinata about the time Kageyama has accidentally aimed a spike at the vice-principal (not the one who impregnated the chemistry teacher) and how it had made off with his wig. By the end of it, Kageyama was blushing adorably and Hinata was in tears from laughing. Blearily they paid their bills and stumbled out, promising to visit again soon.

As they walked, the news of Kageyama’s return to volleyball settled in Hinata’s mind and sobered him up a little, and though he promised himself he’d not talk, he ended up saying “Congratulations on your return!”  
“Impending return,” Kageyama corrected, “It’ll take them another nine months or so to clear me and for me to get back to that level. So I’ll be officially playing only next year.”  
“Still,” Hinata smiled at him, “I’m so happy for you, Kageyama! Tokyo will finally have their Shadow back!”  
Kageyama flushed. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but just how big of a volleyball fan are you? You know so much about the league.”  
“Alright, but don’t be mad, okay?”  
“Why would I be mad?”  
“I’ve been supporting Tokyo since I was like, eight.”  
Kageyama stopped short. “So, you knew who I was when you started working there?”  
“Yeah, and I was nervous about working with you. Until you spilled that espresso over yourself—”  
“Hey, it was an accident—”  
“And you were more concerned about not swearing in front of Kusumi-chan than the fact that you could have been _burned_.”  
Kageyama stilled. “You remember it really clearly, huh?”  
Hinata shrugged. “It was about then that I decided you were a volleyball idiot—”  
“True.”  
“—and I thought of being friends with you, you know. But you turned at me and _glared_ with the force of a thousand suns.”  
He escaped the swat Kageyama aimed at his head, cackling. Hinata felt free, the beer warming his belly and Kageyama at his side muttering about snarky shrimps, and Hinata had the sudden urge to tuck his hand in the warm crook of Kageyama’s elbow as they trudged along. He shook off the feeling as they entered the complex, humming as he entered his wing. “Well, this is me. See you tomorrow, Kageyama-kun!”  
“Night, Hinata.”

When Hinata stepped into his and Kenma’s flat and walked out into the balcony a moment later, he saw Kageyama still rooted to that spot, unaware of being watched. His eyes were focused on the doorway where Hinata had disappeared, and then very slowly Kageyama stretched out his right arm and looked down at it as he tucked his own left hand into the elbow experimentally. As if he’d imagined Hinata doing the same thing a few minutes ago.

Hinata blew out a breath to try and calm the hammering of his heart, then turned around and went inside before he could be seen.

\---

 “Tuesdays are so boring,” Oikawa complained to Koushi on the phone. “I have nothing to do here!”  
“Aren’t you in the supermarket now?”  
“I have nothing to do _after_ this, nii-chan!” Oikawa decided to pick up more of the low-fat froyo since Iwa-chan had seemed to like it. He did a silent eenie-meenie-mynie-moe and picked mango.  
“Don’t you have to prepare Hinata to ask the big question?”  
“He already asked it!”  
“He did? When?”  
“Apparently he was struck by a sudden inspiration and went and asked Ushiwaka-chan last night.”  
“I worry about impulsive youngsters being struck by sudden inspiration,” Koushi complained, “It usually means they’re running from something. Or someone.”  
“Don’t be so negative, nii-chan. At least Ushiwaka-chan agreed!” Oikawa switched his phone to hold it between his ear and his elbow while he examined two boxes of muesli. “Iwa-chan and I will take care of the rest.”  
“Could you possibly stop dragging poor Hajime into this?”  
“But he said he’d rather come along and keep an eye on me!” Oikawa said defensively. “Besides, I’m doing the cooking for the next four days to make up for it.”  
“I don’t know why you think your cooking is anything but a means of torture.”  
“You’re so horrible to me!” Oikawa wailed into his phone softly, aware of disturbing the other customers. “You, Daichi and Iwa-chan, all three of you! Even Kusumi and Takeru are picking up on it.”  
“Daichi said to tell you that it’s because you’re weak and wimpy.”  
Oikawa scoffed. “Am not. I even went shopping on my own today, and I’m carrying all our groceries back on my own!”  
“Good, you need to stop treating Hajime like hired muscle.”  
They both knew Koushi was kidding, Oikawa made sure to keep in shape. It was a point of pride when he had ripped-and-glistening Iwa-chan for a best friend.  
“Anyway, is there anything you want?” Oikawa asked, since the store they preferred was closer to his house than Koushi’s. “I’ll bring it over on the weekend.”  
Koushi hummed. “Nope, pretty sure Daichi crossed off our needs for the rest of the month. Thanks.”

Oikawa hung up and was making his way to the register when he heard a voice say, “Out without your Iwa-chan today?”  
He turned around to see a pair of amused hazel eyes and a crooked smile.  
“Kuroo-kun,” Oikawa greeted, surprised, “I didn’t notice you there.”  
“No, you were too busy defending your, er, strength I’m guessing?” Kuroo grinned, “For what it’s worth I think you’re in decent shape.”  
“Tell that to Iwa-chan,” Oikawa rolled his eyes as he made his way to the checkout counter, Kuroo following with a couple of items of his own, “He thinks I’m weak.”  
“Anyone would be, compared to him,” Kuroo reasoned, “Are you heading back on foot?”  
“Yeah, it’s pretty short.”  
“I’ll walk with you,” Kuroo offered, “Just give me a sec to finish this.”  
“Sure.”

Oikawa was surprised, not only at meeting Kuroo who he saw pretty rarely, but at how _normal_ Kuroo was being. All things said, he’d have said he was closer to Kenma, who despite his reticence had a very sharp tongue and an attitude that matched Oikawa’s own. They’d had a couple of one-off evenings where they’d snarked their way through the resident lists of Aoba Johsai, but that had been quite a while ago. Lately, Kenma had been very involved in his work with the bakery, coming up with new schemes and promotions and employing more people. Oikawa missed hanging out with him, but he could respect Kenma’s ambition and didn’t force him to meet anymore.

Once outside, Kuroo politely offered to help Oikawa carry one of his three grocery bags, and Oikawa handed it to him gratefully.  
“How’s Kenma-chan doing?” He chirped as he and Kuroo walked along, “I haven’t seen him since last Saturday. He keeps staying holed up in the bakery these days.”  
“Yeah, he’s busy,” Kuroo sighed, “You know how it is. People are really impulsive about what they eat on a day-to-day basis. I think he’s trying to stabilise the bakery income by getting more people to become regulars. Like getting someone to come in for the muffins every day, or get croissants for breakfast on the weekend.”  
“He’ll succeed,” Oikawa said confidently, “It’s Kenma-chan, after all.”  
“Don’t you ever feel threatened by him?” Kuroo asked thoughtfully.  
“By Kenma-chan? Why would I?”  
“I think he’s the only person who reads people as well as you do.”  
“I wouldn’t be sure about that,” Oikawa said, thinking of Akaashi. “Anyway, Kenma-chan and I might read people easily but we react to them in completely different ways. It’s not like it’s a competition.”  
“Yeah,” Kuroo chuckled, “You go towards people and Kenma runs away from them.”  
“You always struck me as an odd pair,” Oikawa remarked, and Kuroo blinked at him. “Like, you’re so confident in what you do, and you and Bokuto just do your own thing. And then there’s Kenma-chan, and he’s paranoid about what people think.”  
“We’re childhood friends, actually.”  
“Really? That’s cute.”  
“Cute?”  
“Yeah, I was imagining Kenma-chan as a kid. He must have looked like a little kitten!” Oikawa chirped. He didn’t notice Kuroo’s cheeks flush at the idea of Kenma in a kitten costume.  
“Want to drop into the bakery? It’s on our way,” Kuroo offered, and Oikawa shrugged. “Why not? Maybe I’ll get some mochi to take home.”

The bell chimed as they entered the bakery, and the short dark-haired boy behind the counter nodded at Kuroo. “Sup, Fukunaga. Is Kenma around?”  
Fukunaga blinked, and next to him Lev said, “Kenma-san’s gone out to get supplies, I think.”  
“That’s alright,” Oikawa said, “I’ll have a slice of the cherry pie. Kuroo-kun?”  
“Pecan for me, thanks. Put it on my tab, Lev. It’s my treat, Oikawa.”  
Oikawa blinked in surprise, and Kuroo grinned at him flirtatiously. “I need to sweeten up my returning customers.”  
“Oh, is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Oikawa laughed, surprised at the sudden move. They took a table and settled down with their sweets. Oikawa was looking pensively down at his phone until Kuroo interrupted him. “I’m sorry, were you supposed to do something else now?”  
“Oh no, not at all. We’re just celebrating Mattsun’s birthday tomorrow, so we’re deciding on the cake.”  
“I recommend the Death by Chocolate,” Kuroo said, leaning in, “I can vouch for the fact that it’s delicious, believe me.”  
_Doesn’t sound like you’re talking about the cake,_ Oikawa thought. Aloud he said, “Mmm, but Mattsun likes the weird flavours. We were thinking pineapple and dark chocolate.”  
Kuroo wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know whether that will be delicious or disgusting, but it’s definitely going to be one of the extremes.”  
Oikawa laughed. “That definitely sounds like Mattsun’s taste, so we’re probably on track. It’s only going to be a small celebration, though, seeing as they just came back from their honeymoon.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d planned the whole thing, right? Very admirable endeavour.”  
“I wish I could put it on my resume,” Oikawa lamented, “To be serious, though, I charged Makki and Mattsun a commission for it. I love them, but it definitely required my professional skills and contacts, and it was very short notice.”  
“Did you split it with your Iwa-chan?” Kuroo asked, resting his chin on his palm.  
“I meant to correct you earlier as well, he’s not _my_ Iwa-chan. He’s just Iwa-chan. And yes, since he did most of the budgeting for it.”  
“I beg to differ,” Kuroo said lazily, “He is most definitely _your_ Iwa-chan. Y’all are practically joined at the hip.”  
“He is not.”  
“Oh, then can _I_ call him Iwa-chan as well?” Kuroo was smirking, and Oikawa was taken aback at the rush of possessiveness that hit him. What he said instead was, “You can call him whatever you want as long as he allows it.”  
“That’s adorable, pretending you don’t care. And no, I won’t call him that, because I intend to live a long and healthy life. But maybe he’ll let me call him _Hajime-kun_.”  
“Do as you like,” Oikawa reiterated, annoyed with how closely Kuroo was watching him. He finished the last of his pie and they got up to leave.  
“So you and your Iwa-chan are not...like _that_ , is it?”  
“No,” Oikawa said coolly, “We’re just friends.”  
“Prove it, then,” Kuroo challenged, and Oikawa blinked. “Huh? How?”  
“Go out with me sometime. Do you like karaoke? I bet you like karaoke. Let’s go sing our heads off.”  
Oikawa began laughing. “So you put me on the defensive in hopes that I’d agree to date you? What the hell, Kuroo-kun?”  
“Well, you know...charming face like yours, it’s worth a try.”  
Oikawa swore he wasn’t blushing at the assessing look Kuroo was giving him then, but he was too flustered to notice the old man they’d passed near the bakery who was now standing up and looking at their retreating backs, hat slowly being crushed in his hand.

\---

Hinata, Oikawa realized after taking one look at him, was a quivering bundle of nerves. He was dressed very nicely in the outfit he’d texted a picture of last night – a white Henley with violet stripes, black jeans, clean white sneakers with red stripes on them. His hair was the same as usual, orange and pointing in every direction, but Oikawa was pretty sure nothing else would suit him quite as well. He’d layered with a matching violet jacket that Oikawa had lent him, and the slight oversize made him look small and cuddly.  
“Purple suits you,” Iwaizumi told Hinata, smiling kindly. “Don’t be nervous, you look very nice.”  
Oikawa wished Iwa-chan would realize that he was making Hinata’s predicament worse. The kid was practically shaking with nerves at the thought of turning his meeting with Ushijima into an actual date, even though the man himself had agreed to meet him with little hesitation. Having Iwaizumi compliment him genuinely could deal the death blow to Hinata’s circuits. Then again when it came to Ushiwaka-chan, Oikawa mused, a spade was a spade was a spade. He’d probably think it was platonic right up until the point where Hinata actually told him he liked him.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san,” Hinata murmured, smiling tentatively at him. “You’re very kind.”  
“When is Ushiwaka-chan supposed to meet you there?” Oikawa asked him.  
“About thirty minutes?”  
“That’s great. Come on, Iwa-chan, let’s go to the Raven’s Nest!” Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi’s arm and started steering him towards the gallery, waving goodbye to Hinata who was left waiting in the atrium.  
“Why are we going there?” Iwaizumi asked grumpily.  
“We owe all this to Kiyoko-san, Iwa-chan! We need to go and at least thank her!”  
“Didn’t you say she was gorgeous?”  
“She’s way out of your league, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said loftily, and Iwaizumi grinned. “You sure about that, Oikawa?”  
“No, I am not,” Oikawa hissed, “What is with you and hitting on people lately?” Unbidden, his own words flashed in his mind: _He’s not_ my _Iwa-chan._  
“It’s just fun seeing you get all worked up,” Iwa-chan said, amused, and Oikawa let go of his arm. “Relax, I’m not hitting on Hinata’s boss. It might make things awkward for him.”  
“You’re such a good senpai,” Oikawa teased him and received a flick on the ear. “You really should know when to shut up, Stupidkawa.”

“Oh, buy me an icecream later.”  
Iwa-chan hummed. “Why?”  
“Because I bought your groceries on Tuesday, Iwa-chan!”  
“I feed you from my own hard-earned money every month—”  
Oikawa gave him his most pathetic puppy eyes, and Iwa-chan sighed. “Fine. Just this once.”  
“You should share it with me.”  
“I’m avoiding dessert, I already told you. Plus I pretty much went to town on Issei’s cake.”  
“The pineapple and chocolate _was_ surprisingly delicious,” Oikawa agreed. “Kenma-chan should make it a special menu item.”  
“I should date Kenma,” Iwaizumi laughed, “Hinata gets free desserts on the regular, right? I wouldn’t mind that.”  
“Pretty sure Kenma-chan is downright scared of you.”  
“Everyone is until they actually talk to me,” Iwaizumi reasoned.  
“ _I_ wasn’t.”  
“Crappykawa, the only reason you made it to this age is because humans without common sense don’t fall prey to natural selection as much as animals do.”  
“Are you saying I should have been scared of you, Iwa-chan?”  
“I’m just saying the fact that you weren’t scared of me is nothing personal. If you ran into a bear your way of dealing with the situation would be to pick up a stick and poke it.”  
“The bear would probably love me anyway.”  
Iwa-chan shook his head, but he was smiling. “Anyway, if I try to approach Kenma, Kuroo would probably gut me.”  
“Huh, I thought so too, but...” Oikawa frowned, remember the blatant advances Kuroo made on him on Tuesday, in Kenma’s bakery with Kenma’s employees able to see their every move.  
“But what?”  
“Nothing. I was just thinking, with someone like Kuroo, you just never know what he’s going to do.”

“This is the place, right?” Iwa-chan gestured at the elegant entrance to the Raven’s Nest. They stepped inside, and behind the counter sat the Raven herself. Shimizu Kiyoko was about their age, and had become a national sensation when she narrowly missed the 200m gold in the Olympics a few years ago, earning herself the nickname of the Raven. Now she’d retired from sports, instead focusing her exemplary sense of aesthetics into setting up the interior decor gallery. Among her patrons were several idols and movie stars.  
“Oikawa-san,” she greeted in her low, sweet voice, and nodded when Oikawa introduced Iwaizumi.  
“We heard you found a new artist,” Oikawa smiled, and Shimizu-san smiled back. “Thank you for introducing him. He’s just a great talent, and rustic is all the rage now. I’d requested twenty figurines and they began to sell this morning, and I’ve already sold two.”  
“Mind if we take a look?”  
“Help yourself. Hitoka-chan, please go with them.”

The short blonde woman who led them across the display cases seemed familiar, and Iwaizumi was wondering why when Oikawa smiled and said, “Aren’t you Tobio-chan’s assistant?”  
She blushed, “Yes, I’m Yachi Hitoka, his assistant. Not full-time, though. I mostly work here, since Kageyama-kun introduced me to Shimizu-san. You must be Oikawa-san and Iwaizumi-san, right? He’s mentioned you once or twice.”  
“So, you must have met Hinata-kun through Tobio-chan earlier, right?”  
Yachi’s eyes widened. “They know each other? That’s strange, Kageyama-kun never mentioned him to me. We only met when he came to Shimizu-san the other day with his figurines.”  
“I think they’ve become friends only recently,” Iwaizumi butted in, unsure of what Oikawa was up to but having none of it, “They played against this guy last weekend, but I haven't played against Hinata yet.”  
“They worked well together,” Oikawa added airily. “Anyway, I’m sure he would have told you if it was important.”

He turned to examine the figurines, and Iwaizumi thanked Yachi, who nodded distractedly and left.  
“This is good, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mused.  
“What’s good? What have you planned, Assikawa?’  
“I meant the figurines,” Oikawa pouted, acting wounded. He looked at the price tag and whistled low. “Yeah, I’m getting my boss only one of these. Kiyoko-san makes a good margin.”  
“Good enough to pay your agency, so don’t be ungrateful.”  
“Of course not. But you know what else is good, Iwa-chan?”  
“What?”  
“Hinata didn’t tell Tobio-chan about the commission, because how else would Yachi-san not know who Hinata was before they met? They must be less close than we thought.”  
“You really are a crappy guy.”

\---

“Hinata-kun?” Ushijima Wakatoshi was stirring his tea with utmost concentration, which was why his voice surprised Hinata. They sat in the little booth in the Sky Blue City food court, Hinata with an insanely calorific whipped cream concoction (he silently apologized to his employers for buying from their rival) and Ushijima opposite him.  
“Y-yes?” he stammered, hoping his nervousness didn’t show.  
“Why did you invite me here?” Ushijima asked bluntly.  
“I already told you, I wanted to thank you—”  
“Yes, and I accepted your reason. But you see, certain things don’t add up. I’m not one for subtleties, but your outfit suggests a romantic opportunity rather than something more suited for a formal celebration. Instead of choosing a more appropriate restaurant you chose a cafe where we are surrounded by couples. And also there is the fact that you said someone introduced you to Kiyoko-san through contacts, and whoever that someone is definitely merits more of a celebratory treat than I do. All in all, and I may be wrong, it looks as if you wish to woo me. Is that it, Hinata-kun?”  
Hinata’s first thought was _Who the hell calls it wooing_ followed by _Oh crap I’m so screwed._ He decided to be honest and lay bare his feelings.

“You’re right, Ushijima-san, I invited you out here b-because I like you,” he said, rushed. “I, I really admire you – you’re such a great player and you write well, and you’re such a nice person and very kind. And I like hanging out with you.”  
“Hinata,” Ushijima said after a brief pause, and Hinata would never have expected him to be so gentle, “You’re a very charming young man, and if I were ten years younger I probably wouldn’t have hesitated. But as things stand, you’re a little too young for me.”  
“A-age is just a number.”  
Ushijima shook his head. “I was referring to mental age, not physical. You’ve just moved here after a relatively sheltered upbringing, and your life is just now falling into place. I’m already approaching middle age, and I’ve seen a lot more of the world than you have – enough to not have a great opinion of it. I can see that your brightness has its appeal, but it doesn’t call to me personally. You still have a lot of optimism in you, and someone like me, who doesn’t know how to protect or nurture that, shouldn’t be made responsible for it. I’m saying this because if we get into a serious relationship – and I don’t know of any other kind – then you will grow to resent me, and I will feel guilty for it. Please accept my apologies.”  
Well, Hinata thought wryly, when Ushijima presented it to him like that, he could hardly refute it. He cleared his throat to hide the wobble in his voice as he said, “Alright, Ushijima-san. I appreciate you being kind about it.”  
“You’re a nice person, Hinata-kun. You deserve nothing less.” Ushijima hesitated before adding, “There is someone else I am attracted to, right now. If things were different...”  
“Do you think they like you back?” Hinata asked, because it seemed important to know.  
“I don’t know. I thought it was feasible, and I wanted to be sure before I leave for London next week, but now, perhaps I don’t want to know the answer.”  
Ushijima got up and made to put his share of money on the table, but something in Hinata’s eyes stopped him. Instead he said, “Thank you for the tea, I’m leaving now.”  
Hinata nodded, still numb, and watched as Ushijima wished him good luck and headed for the escalator at the edge of the food court. A part of him idly noticed that Ushijima's butt was still looking A-plus, and his stomach felt like a pit the moment the thought formed.

“So, I’m guessing that didn’t go as planned?” Hinata turned around. Iwaizumi was standing there, hands in pockets, looking at him sympathetically.  
“How much did you hear?” Hinata demanded, chagrined.  
“Nothing, I was observing you both from a distance. But it’s pretty obvious what happened.” Iwaizumi came forward and patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault, Iwaizumi-san.” Hinata sighed. “Does it sound stupid when I say I’m more upset at the rejection than out of any actual sense of loss?”  
“I think it makes perfect sense,” Iwaizumi said quietly. “Come on now, there’s no point of sitting here. Go wash your face, I’ll wait outside. Oikawa should be around here somewhere. Okay?”  
He ruffled Hinata’s head and headed for the exit to give him time to compose himself. Hinata stared at the back of his head and sighed. When he emerged from the bathroom and paid his bill, he saw Oikawa standing with Iwaizumi, and felt a rush of affection at the disappointed look on Oikawa’s face. “Hinata-kun—” Oikawa began, but was interrupted by someone calling his name. To his horror, Hinata saw Ushijima returning, honing in on Oikawa like a missile.  
“Not now, Ushiwaka-chan!” Oikawa exclaimed, for once letting his irritation show, but Ushijima wasn’t in a listening mood. “I am sorry for the timing, but this is urgent.”  
So saying, he tugged a surprised Oikawa by the wrist and led him away while Iwaizumi watched with pursed lips and Hinata gaped.  
“Okay, what the hell was that about?” Hinata asked, genuinely outraged.  
“Nothing good,” Iwaizumi sighed, “C’mon, we have to follow him.”  
“You’re going to eavesdrop?”  
“My brother and his husband will never forgive me if we don’t,” was the reply, but to Hinata he seemed eager and almost grimly amused. They followed at a safe distance, Ushijima walking single-mindedly ahead with an increasingly confused Oikawa at his side. Finally they reached the western end of the mall, where the sunset filtered in through the enormous glass wall that took up the entire side. There Ushijima turned around and said, with little regard for who could hear them, “Oikawa! Go out with me!”

Hinata clutched at Iwaizumi’s arm reflexively, and didn’t notice his wince. They moved closer towards the duo, who were engrossed in their conversation.

“What?” Oikawa asked, sounding absolutely fed up, “Why?”  
“Because we would make a great pair. You are intelligent, charming and attractive, and we play volleyball well together.”  
“While I appreciate the compliment, Ushiwaka-chan, I’m not interested in you that way.”  
“Why not?”  
“Why _not_?”  
“That is what I asked. Surely you it isn’t because you have feelings for Iwaizumi-kun.”  
“Ushiwaka-chan, I told you I don’t want to date anyone! Why does it matter why?” Oikawa actually _stomped_ his foot, and despite his grim mood Hinata couldn’t help but chuckle.  
“I can’t believe you let Hinata-kun down because of this business with me!”  
Ushijima stilled. “Was it you who encouraged him to do that?”  
“What of it?”  
“I am disappointed, Oikawa. I expected you to be more responsible about things like this, rather than needlessly encouraging a young man’s feelings for me without making sure they would be requited.”  
“Don’t you think I feel like enough of an asshole now?”  
“Well, you have my sympathy, but please do not blame me for both halves of this messy situation. One of them is not my fault and I will not shoulder that burden.”  
Oikawa calmed down at his reasonable tone. At length he took in a deep breath and let out a sigh. “I guess you’re right, Ushiwaka-chan. But this is still out of the blue. It’s been years since we met.” He looked around and his eyes widened as he caught sight of Hinata, who raised his hands in reassurance.  
Ushijima, oblivious as ever, replied, “Yes, but for quite a bit of that time I was under the impression that you were elsewhere occupied.”  
Oikawa sighed again. “Well, no harm done to either of us, Ushiwaka-chan. I’d better go apologize to Hinata.”  
Ushijima turned the other way, still unaware of Iwaizumi and Hinata at his back. “Very well. Please apologize to Hinata-kun again on my behalf.”

Oikawa made his way to Iwaizumi and Hinata, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy.  
“I’m sorry, Shou-chan,” he mumbled, “I _really_ didn’t expect things to turn out like that.”  
“It isn’t your fault, Oikawa-san. Couldn’t have predicted what he’d do.”  
Iwaizumi shot Oikawa a look over Hinata’s head, and he flushed.  
“I’ll make it up to you,” he vowed, “What do you want? Anything you’d like. ”  
“Right now, I’d like to take you both out for lunch.” Hinata interrupted.  
“Huh?”  
“Please, Oikawa-san. We still have a reason to celebrate.” He looked up at them and grinned. “I just signed an exclusive contract with Shimizu-san, remember? All thanks to you. So it’s going to be my treat!”  
“Well,” Iwaizumi said gently, “If that’s what you want, who are we to stop you? Lead the way, Hinata-kun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I finally tied up a couple of threads. And yesss, new complications loom on the horizon haha
> 
> I'll probably post much more slowly from now on. Just realized my chapters have grown in size from ~3k words for the first chapter to 6k for this one, but they'll stay around the same size now. This one was relatively easy to write since I'd envisioned it from the start, but I also add in new twists and threads as I go along, so they'll be erratic. As always, hope you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9 - Of Insecurities and Resenments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not ignoring you,” he said, his voice irritated, “It’s usually you who’s talking. I’m always quiet.”  
> “That is expressly untrue. You’re silent but you don’t...shut me off like this.” Oikawa waved his hands expansively. “If you’re mad, Iwa-chan, just say it.”
> 
> \---  
> Rated E for smut in the first bit. If you don't want to read it, skip ahead to the first (---)

Daichi woke up on automatic and looked at his alarm clock in the dark of the bedroom. Eight seventeen am. He rose on an elbow and blinked around sleepily, wondering why the alarm hadn’t rung, when a warm hand hooked on his shoulder and pulled him back down. “The kids are at the sleepover,” Koushi murmured into his ear, burying his face in the crook of Daichi’s neck. “The curtains are drawn. Stay here.”  
As if he’d be anywhere else, Daichi thought idly as he lay back and let Koushi settle on his chest. One of his hands settled on Koushi’s ribs to feel his breathing. The other snaked under his husband’s nightshirt, and Koushi squirmed, protesting the cold of his fingers. “Daichiiii.”  
“Hmmm?” His fingers began moving up and down on Koushi’s back, tracing the knobs of his spine.  
“I promise you, I will do _whatever_ you want afterwards, but let me sleep a little now.”  
“Whatever I want?” Daichi asked, smiling at the idea. Koushi squirmed, trying to move even closer, burrowing into the heat of his husband’s chest. “Mmmmm, yes, you pervert. Anything you like.”  
“Okay,” Daichi agreed peaceably. That should have given Koushi enough warning, but he was too sleepy to question it. Daichi smiled to himself as he wrapped his arms around his husband’s body. Koushi, always the more slender of them, was always cooler to the touch, seeking out his warmth on cool mornings.

When Koushi got up next, Daichi was already in the kitchen, whistling as he made the coffee. Koushi went to brush, and when he got back Daichi was holding out his mug with the requisite cream and sugar added. Koushi smiled his thanks as he took the mug, and gingerly settled sideways into Daichi’s lap. He took a sip and hummed in satisfaction. “Perfect as always.” Daichi made his coffee every morning, and Koushi complimented it every day like clockwork. They both knew what was coming, but Koushi took his time with his coffee, and Daichi didn’t hurry him, simply stroking his bare knee and dropping kisses onto his arm and shoulder. The kids would only be back by eleven, and they’d had too many mornings and nights where exhaustion or time constraints had forced them to speed up. Today, they would take as long as they liked.

Koushi tipped back his head to catch the last of his coffee, then twisted away to place the cup on the nightstand. He turned to Daichi and was met with lips against his own. They kissed as they removed their boxers, softly, slowly, light pecks before Daichi swept his tongue along Koushi’s lips, and then their mouths opened together. He grasped Koushi’s jaw, holding his mouth open and shifting the angle a little, tasting the sweet of his coffee and the heat of his tongue. Koushi slipped fingers into his hair, pulling them closer together, hearts already thudding, noses bumping. His chest was beginning to heave from the kisses, but he only came back for more, hands linking at Daichi’s nape. Their lips parted and Koushi _moaned_ , such a beautifully frank sound that Daichi’s cock jumped. His hands tightened on Koushi’s waist, fingers sinking into the soft skin. But he knew Koushi enjoyed running in the show, so he waited expectantly. Koushi switched to nibbling on his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth, and he pushed on Daichi’s shoulders until he lay back. Koushi shifted so he was straddling Daichi’s hips and gave him a mischievous grin that had Daichi’s pulse skidding. No matter how many times they did it in this position, something about it made him lose control, and Koushi knew it. Knew the power in his body, knew the sight of him pleasuring himself on Daichi’s cock drove him mad.

He leaned forward to give Daichi a kiss and was pulled into another and then another. Koushi pressed his ass down on Daichi’s dick to hear the resulting moan against his lips. Then he pushed up again and reached above Daichi’s head for the lube. Daichi took the opportunity to reach up and bite his nipple, and Koushi couldn’t restrain his shudder at the hint of pain. Daichi continued to lave and suck on his nipple until Koushi used a hand on his hair to push him off. Then he met Daichi’s eyes and wiggled his lubed fingers in his face before reaching behind himself, balancing against Daichi’s chest with the other hand.  
“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Daichi moaned, “Let me do that for you.”  
Koushi shook his head, biting his lip as he breached himself with a finger. “Mmmm. No, I wanna do it. You—” he let out a gasp as it slid inside fully, “You just get to watch.”  
“No fair,” Daichi murmured, rubbing Koushi’s flank with a soothing hand. Koushi smirked at him as he added a second finger, then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in a gasp. “ _Fuck._  
Feels like it’s been ages.”  
“Well, it has been a couple of weeks since we last—”  
“ _Oh.”_ Koushi interrupted Daichi with a groan. “Mmm, Dai, I can’t wait to get you inside me.”  
He scissored his fingers and scowled in frustration as he searched for that spot. “Dammit.”  
Daichi couldn’t help laughing as he reached for the lube. “Let me.”  
His fingers gently traced along Koushi’s crack and stopped at his rim, rubbing against Koushi’s own fingers. “Do you think you can take another?”  
“I’ve taken f-four in the past,” Koushi reminded him, stealing a kiss. Daichi chased it and kissed him more insistently. “Mmm. It’s been a while since you were so stretched, though.”  
He tapped Koushi’s hand till his fingers came out, and then slid his own without further ado. Koushi jumped and squeaked at the sudden stretch – Daichi’s fingers were much thicker than his—then pressed back against the intrusion once the feeling passed. Daichi was still kissing him, his other hand moving to hold Koushi’s butt, smoothing along the sensitive skin of his cheek with a maddening lightness. Then his mouth moved to Koushi’s ear as he began twisting his fingers.

Koushi cried out as Daichi hit his sweet spot, hips jerking reflexively, and Daichi steadied him as his arm gave way. Then he did it again and again till Koushi was melting against him, head resting on his shoulder, tears leaking from his eyes. Daichi turned his head to kiss him again and Koushi moaned into his mouth. “Enough, Daichi, I want your dick, _please._ ”  
Daichi obediently retracted his fingers, smiling at him. “I thought it was going to be whatever I wanted today?”  
“And what _do_ you want?”  
Daichi pretended to think, and Koushi hit his chest. “Hurry up, I’m in need here.”  
Daichi laughed. “Well then, I want you to ride me.”  
“What a coincidence,” Koushi murmured as he reached for the lube again, generously slicking up Daichi’s dick, “I want to ride you as well.” Daichi shuddered at the hungry look in his eyes.  
Koushi smiled as he spread his thighs on either side of Daichi’s hips, reached for his dick and pressed it against his own entrance. Daichi watched his eyes go clouded with pleasure and let out a groan. “Koushi, you’re driving me craz— _Oh._ ” Koushi moved down on his dick in one smooth motion, and all thoughts flew out of Daichi’s head except _wet_ and _heat._ He gripped Koushi’s hips to the point of pain as his husband moved up and down, trying to accommodate all of it, making soft noises of pleasure.

 Koushi’s eyes were screwed shut and he was blushing from his hairline to his chest. Daichi said, “Hold on,” and planted his feet on the bed, pumping his hips a little. Koushi cried out in shock, tears leaking from beneath his lids. Daichi growled a little, pumping his hips more forcefully, the head of his cock pressing against that sweet spot, and Koushi gasped, leaning forward to support himself on Daichi’s chest with both hands, eyes popping wide open. His dick was flushed red where it pressed against the pale skin of his belly, and his hips were moving in uncontrolled circles. His ass tightened around Daichi’s dick, so suffocatingly good, and Daichi knew he wouldn’t last.

So he reached out and wrapped his hand around Koushi’s dick, and Koushi _begged,_ so loud and uninhibited that Daichi’s dick twitched inside him. It had been forever since they’d been free to make noise, and Koushi grasped Daichi’s hand that was wrapped around his dick as he fucked himself on Daichi’s cock, helpless to follow the rhythm his body had set. Daichi moved his free hand up from Koushi’s waist to his chest and, without warning, pinched at his nipple. The spark of pain pushed Koushi off the edge and he _wailed_. The overwhelming pleasure in his face, the suffocating tightness of his ass, had Daichi following him as well. He grasped Koushi’s hips in place as he pumped into him through his orgasm, feeling the heat leave his body in spurts.

When it was over, Daichi’s hands dropped limply to his sides, and Koushi carefully moved off his dick and then slumped on top of him. With a huge effort, Daichi wrapped his arms around Koushi and felt his body become lax as his breathing slowed down. Koushi murmured and pressed his nose into Daichi’s neck, soft and content. After a few minutes Daichi began stroking up his back, and Koushi wiggled in protest. “Why do you always want to _move_?” he grumbled, and Daichi chuckled. “We should clean up before this gets unpleasant.”  
“Daichi, I have your come in my ass. It’s already unpleasant.”  
“You didn’t put the condom on me,” Daichi pointed out mildly. Whenever they did this, it was Koushi who decided when barebacking was okay and when he didn’t feel like cleaning up afterward. Daichi, either way, was happy to get laid and make his husband have an orgasm or two.  
“It was the first time in a while! I wanted to...feel you,” Koushi muttered, his cheeks turning pink. But Daichi reddened even more than he did, so that way okay. “I’ll help you clean it out,” Daichi offered at length, still red as a tomato, and Koushi laughed. “Thanks, but that’ll just end in round two. It’s nearly nine-thirty, we need to have breakfast.”  
“We could squeeze in a quickie in the shower,” Daichi murmured, and Koushi rolled off and considered him seriously. “Alright,” he nodded, “If we manage to shower in the next ten minutes, we’ll do sixty-nine afterwards.”  
Daichi scrambled off the bed, leaving Koushi laughing and complaining at the sudden cold. Then he paused, moved to give Koushi a final kiss and a promissory butt-squeeze before heading for the bathroom. He threw a cocky grin over his shoulder, “Gonna come here or stare at my ass all day?”  
“I’m good, thanks,” Koushi teased back, and Daichi promptly shut the door, cutting off his view. Koushi grumbled as he followed, wiggling at the feeling of come leaking out of his ass, but still smiling. Today was going to be a good day.

\---

“So, are you seriously going to ignore me?” Oikawa asked from where he sat at Iwa-chan’s table. It was Sunday morning, and Oikawa, who had already showered, had decided to pop over to Iwa-chan’s place for breakfast as per their usual routine.  
Iwa-chan had his back to Oikawa as he flipped pancakes. It was stiff; he hadn’t even turned around when he’d heard Oikawa come in.  
“I’m not ignoring you,” he said, his voice irritated, “It’s usually you who’s talking. I’m always quiet.”  
“That is expressly untrue. You’re silent but you don’t...shut me off like this.” Oikawa waved his hands expansively. “If you’re mad, Iwa-chan, just say it.”  
“I’m not mad.” Iwa-chan loaded the pancakes onto two plates, with strawberries and sliced bananas, and brought them over to the table. He passed the butter to Oikawa without prompting, and once they’d started eating he continued. “I’m just...really pissed off with you, Tooru.”  
“That’s the same as being mad—”  
“But above all, I’m disappointed,” Iwa-chan interrupted him, “That was just grade-A shitty behaviour, Oikawa. I expected you to be more considerate.”  
Oikawa felt the shame flood in. He’d had an earful from Hanamaki and Matsukawa the previous day, and even his mother had called up to scold him after Iwa-chan had reported to her. But watching Iwa-chan upset over this just seemed worse somehow.

“What you don’t seem to understand,” Iwa-chan continued after they'd eaten and put away their plates, “Is that people get _hurt_ while you’re getting your whims fulfilled. Why bother to set them up together in the first place? Why do you have issues if Hinata gets together with Kageyama? Are you going to spend your life scaring away anyone who’s interested in the poor kid?”  
“Tobio-chan is just...he’s rude, and he has no social skills, and he’s got all the subtlety of a brick.”  
“So do I,” Iwaizumi crossed his arms, “Yet you tolerate me just fine.”  
“You’re _different_ , Iwa-chan,” Oikawa protested.  
“Why?”  
“What do you mean why?”  
“I mean exactly why have you stuck around with me all this time?” Iwaizumi snapped, “Just because our brothers got married and we went to college together doesn’t mean you’re obliged to hang off me. It’s been freaking nine years, Shittykawa. You’re allowed to move away, you’re allowed to have your own life. Yet you’ve always stuck by me and you’ve always insisted that I stick by you.”  
Oikawa felt panic rise in his throat. Was Iwa-chan hinting that he wanted to _separate_?

Iwa-chan continued, “But just because I’m not pretty and I’m not charming or whatever the fuck it is doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of your respect. The same goes for Kageyama. In fact, I would say that his being in the same position you were should convince you to respect him more. You’ve _been there_ , you know how hard it is and you know he doesn’t have it easy—”  
“Of course he has it easy!” Oikawa snapped. “You don’t know anything, Iwa-chan! Anything at all.”  
Iwa-chan crossed his arms. “Then explain it to me.”  
“You weren’t there when we played him,” Oikawa continued, “You skipped the practice match because you had a fever. We went to Tobio-chan’s school for a practice match as a favour to the principal. They were a nationals-level school, but he was in his second year and we were in our third year – and they _won_ , Iwa-chan. We were a nationals best eight college team and _they won._ That Tobio, afterwards he has the nerve to ask me to teach him my serve. _The nerve._ ”  
“What the hell,” Iwa-chan said, “This is all because his team beat ours once? I bet he doesn’t even remember. Are you serious right now, Oikawa?”

“ _I hate geniuses!”_ Oikawa yelled, “ _I fucking hate them,_ Iwa-chan. Fourteen years – fourteen _years_ I practised as often as I could to make it to the national team and in the end they picked some bleached-blond idiot from Kansai. I didn’t have the instincts so I instilled them in myself. I didn’t have the accuracy so I trained it into my body. I had the height and I fucking used it. I had the stamina and I used it up till I _collapsed._ You were there, you saw it, so _you_ tell me. What did I did do wrong, Iwa-chan? What did I do wrong? W-what else should I have sacrificed, then, to get the call? They weren’t even offering me f-first string. I practised and I practised and—and—”

Oikawa wasn’t aware that the tears were falling until they splashed on his bare feet. Iwa-chan was watching him steadily, and he raised a hand out to him. “Oikawa—”  
  
_“ **WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO WRONG, IWA-CHAN?”**_

Oikawa screamed at the top of his lungs. His rage overwhelmed him; his knees gave way as he slumped on the floor. He wasn’t even aware that Iwa-chan was there with him until he put an arm around Oikawa, then he slumped against his chest, crying bitterly. Iwa-chan said nothing, just let him cry it out as he thumped a fist against Iwa-chan’s chest in his fury. In the end, his tears dwindled to a trickle. “I h-hate stupid geniuses,” Oikawa hiccupped as he accepted the tissue Iwa-chan held out.  
“I got the point,” Iwa-chan said drily, but he ruffled Oikawa’s hair as he got up. “We have to be at Daichi and nii-san’s for lunch by twelve, by the way. If you don’t use makeup he’s going to ask questions.”

Oikawa nodded as he wiped his face and blew his nose. He probably looked terrible with his face flushed and eyes swollen. He wondered how many of their neighbours has heard him scream, but Iwa-chan seemed unbothered as he herded Oikawa out his door to his own apartment.  
“Oikawa.”  
He turned around. Iwa-chan stood against his door, arms crossed, feet planted. Like an immovable wall. “I empathize with your situation regarding Kageyama, but I’m still mad about Hinata. You’re going to have to make up for that.”  
Oikawa nodded slowly.  
Iwa-chan nodded back. “Good, I’ll meet you in half an hour. Be sure to disguise that ugly mug.”  
“That’s rich coming from _you_ , Iwa-chan!” Oikawa complained, and Iwa-chan slammed his door shut in reply. Oikawa sighed, feeling slightly better as he entered his place. He knew he didn’t mean that last thing he said, and Iwa-chan didn’t either.

\---

“You’re even cheerier than usual,” Tooru complained, “It’s creepy!”

They were all sitting at the table in Daichi and Koushi’s house. Daichi was next to Koushi, politely ignoring his husband’s hand on his thigh under the table, talking to Hajime who was sitting across from him. Tooru was sitting next to Hajime, opposite Koushi, resting his chin on both palms and pouting into his mochi.

“I had a good start to my day,” Koushi hummed, and watched Daichi’s ears turn red.  
“Gross,” Tooru exclaimed, dramatically covering his eyes.  
“Oikawa,” Hajime said mildly, “They’ve been at it for ten years. Shouldn’t you be used to it?”  
“I’m not a pervert like _you_ , Iwa-chan!” Tooru exclaimed immediately. Hajime got a glint in his eye and he opened his mouth, but Tooru slapped a hand on it. “Okay, okay, sorry, don’t go around telling Nii-chan all that stuff, okay?”  
“What stuff?” Koushi rested his chin on his palm and smirked, “Like how your ex called your _Daddy_ when Hajime was there?”  
Tooru gaped at Hajime. “Iwa-chan, you _told_ him?”  
“Makkun and Matsu-kun did,” Koushi said cheerfully, and Hajime raised his hands at Oikawa’s glare. “Hey, I was weirded out, okay? I needed to tell someone. Makki was present.”  
“Well, now I’m going to him about _your_ weird ex—”  
“The one who had sex with Kuroo on the stairs?”  
“Dammit, nii-chan, let me have my victory,” Tooru whined.  
“You don’t deserve victory,” Hajime declared, giving him a stern look, and Tooru subsided.

Koushi narrowed his eyes at them. “Are you two _fighting_?”  
“Yes!” Tooru said in the same moment Hajime said, “No,” and they scowled at each other. Tooru looked away first, huffing and making the same moue he’d been making since he was two.  
“Iwa-chan scolded me _so much_.”  
“Because you manipulated Hinata into having his feelings hurt,” Hajime’s tone had an edge of impatience.  
“I was setting them up, Iwa-chan! How was I supposed to know Ushiwaka-chan would come and screw it up?”  
“You could have still avoided that last confrontation. Fat lot of good that did, being rejected and then seeing Ushijima ask you out not ten minutes later.”  
“ _Could you stop reminding me?”_ Oikawa snarled suddenly. His expressions were angry, but his eyes weren’t quite the same. “Regardless of what you think, I actually _like_ Shou-chan, okay? He’s a sweetheart, and he seemed so uncertain about a lot of stuff so I thought a relationship with someone experienced might give him perspective. How was I supposed to know stupid Ushiwaka-chan would—would—”  
“Ask you out?” Hajime prodded gently. “So soon after rejecting Hinata? He’s exactly that kind of guy, Tooru. You should have guessed when he started dragging you away for no reason.” He shifted closer and swung an arm around Tooru’s shoulder, and Tooru tilted against him, looking down at his hands. His lower lip was wobbling. “I feel like such a bad person.”  
“You shouldn’t be worried about _your_ feelings right now,” Hajime said mildly, but he patted Tooru’s shoulder all the same. Tooru nodded, but his expression relaxed. “I’ll find a way to apologize properly to Shou-chan.”

Koushi wondered if the two of them even realized what they did to each ohter. Tooru was upset about the Hinata thing (truth be told, Koushi wanted to scold him but Hajime had done a thorough job already) but he was equally upset at the prospect of Hajime being mad at him. Despite their different outlooks, it was very rare for the two of them to genuinely argue over something like this. And Hajime had just lifted a huge weight off Tooru’s shoulders by letting it go.

“Hajime-chan! Come play with us!” Kusumi called from the twins’ bedroom. Takeru popped up behind her. “I guess Tooru-chan can come as well.”  
“What’s with that unenthusiastic invitation?” Tooru demanded petulantly, but followed Hajime into the bedroom. Koushi exchanged amused glances with Daichi as they went to do the dishes together.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi sat crosslegged on the floor amid the scattered toys, and Kusumi began tying a shiny blue ribbon into Oikawa’s hair. Takeru brought them teacups on a tray. Oikawa chuckled, “No ribbon for Iwa-chan?”  
“Hajime-chan’s getting a walking stick,” Kusumi declared, and Takeru handed Iwaizumi a candy cane which he’d hunted up from somewhere.  
“Because he’s supposed to be a boy and I’m supposed to be a girl?” Oikawa squawked, outraged.  
“No, silly Tooru-chan. It’s because you’re pretty and he’s strong,” Takeru chirped, “So he’ll use the stick to fight off monsters who want to marry you!”  
Iwaizumi was struggling not to laugh. He took a deep breath and forced himself to nod seriously as he twirled the cane. “I’ll do my best to save Oikawa.” He caught Oikawa’s eye and his lip twitched. “The ribbon suits you.”  
“You’re just making fun of me,” Oikawa said, dramatically feigning betrayal, and the twins laughed.  
“It’s alright, Tooru-chan, you can help Hajime-chan as well!”  
“How?”  
“You can toss to him!”  
Oikawa blinked at Takeru. “But if Iwa-chan hits my toss and it becomes a spike, then isn’t it he who’s helping me?”  
Kusumi said, crossing her arms irritably, “Why does it have to be only one of you?”  
Oikawa smiled at Iwaizumi, who was diligently pretending to drink his tea. “I suppose that makes sense.”  
“Would you like some milk-bread, Tooru-chan?”  
Oikawa’s face lit up. “I would love some, Kusumi-chan!”  
“But first,” she wagged her finger in his face, “You need to do your maths!”  
“I already did my maths!”  
“Well, do it again!” Takeru reasoned, “Look, Hajime-chan’s doing the English alphabet!”  
Oikawa obediently wrote down the numbers and corrected Kusumi’s occasional mistakes. Iwaizumi was helping Takeru learn basic English letters. The occasional lessons were of course Koushi's brainchild, since he was anxious that his children should have a head-start in the competitive academic environment. Iwaizumi had taken it in his stride; Oikawa had to be convinced that "studying" was not going to ruin the precious time he spent with the kids. After about twenty minutes, Kusumi examined Oikawa's numbers, declared him smart and rewarded him with an invisible milk bread. Takeru, not to be outdown, cooked up some agedashi tofu in a little bowl and served it to Iwaizumi, who ate it with the utmost concentration until Oikawa started laughing. It all went downhill from there as the twins ran around cackling like hoodlums, Oikawa valiantly restrained his giggles, and Iwaizumi tried to frown at them till they quieted but failed.

Eventually, Takeru let out a yawn. The twins’ movements were a little sluggish; their eyes were beginning to droop. Oikawa glanced at Iwa-chan, who nodded; it had been over two hours since the twins had had lunch, so they were due to go down for a nap anytime.  
"You need to tell us a story, Hajime-chan!" Kusumi demanded, "And Tooru-chan, you should help him."  
“Why did you want Oikawa and I help each other?” Iwaizumi asked to keep them talking. He began clearing up some of the scattered toys and placing them in the box. Takeru made to pull them out, and Iwaizumi held him off easily with one arm.  
“Because—because you’re friends!” Kusumi reasoned. “Friends help each other. Like Doraemon and Nobita.”  
“Does Nobita ever help Doraemon?” Oikawa wondered aloud, cuddling Kusumi to his chest. She had Koushi’s hair, several shades lighter than his own – it would go prematurely silver, like Koushi and their mother. He rested his chin on top of her head and sighed at the thought of her growing up.  
“He makes Doraemon happy,” Takeru said from where he was piling the last of the toys inside the box. He turned and nearly tripped on his own feet, and Iwaizumi scooped him up, chuckling. “That’s being friends.”

Takeru was built much in the same way as his father and uncle – brown skin, dark spiky hair and a serious face. The twins shared their biological mother, but so far no trace of her was visible in their appearance. Oikawa was secretly glad that they resembled both sides of the family, but he chided himself for considering their mother an outsider when they wouldn’t be here without her. He pondered the thought of the twins tracking down their mother when they grew up (was that even allowed?) as he hummed Kusumi to sleep. Takeru was already out, cheek smushed against Iwa-chan’s broad shoulder. Iwa-chan was rubbing his back absently, looking out of the window, his brow lined in thought. Oikawa watched as he carefully laid Takeru down on one of the twin beds and pulled the blanket over him, patting him when he stirred, and pressed a kiss against his forehead. Oikawa took another five minutes with Kusumi, who took longer to drift off, and Iwa-chan sat there, absently stroking Takeru’s head. It was an absolute and easy silence, the comfort of having worked in tandem several times before. Finally Oikawa moved to set Kusumi down, and once the twins were settled they tiptoed out of the room.

“Are they out?” Daichi asked, looking up from the book he was reading on the sofa. Koushi had his head on his lap, having applied a face mask, a sleep mask covering his eyes.  
“They’re out,” Iwaizumi confirmed, gestured to the cover. “I take it this is your latest?”  
Daichi nodded. “It’s by this new author. Japanese parents but settled in the UK. He was responsible for translating Hageshino Echigo-san’s works into English. Now he’s written his debut novel – pretty great.”  
“What he means,” Koushi said without stirring from his lap, “is that the man is pretty hot, and my husband has a thing for him.”  
Daichi rolled his eyes. “I said he’s hot because he’s got grey hair, and for some reason,” he tweaked Koushi’s ear, “I seem to have developed a weakness to it.”  
“You people really need to tone it down,” Oikawa grumbled as Iwaizumi reached for Daichi’s book to take a look at the author picture. He flipped to the back of the book, then his eyebrows shot up and he let out a low whistle. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”  
“Not you too, Hajime!” Koushi exclaimed, pushing the mask to peek at him with one eye while at the same time Oikawa grasped the book to take a look. “Don’t be dramatic, Iwa-chan, how hot could he possibly be...oh.” He stared at the book while Iwaizumi chuckled and said, “How do I say this? There’s something about him.”

“What thing?” Oikawa prompted, eyes boring into him.  
Iwaizumi blinked. “I don’t know, he’s just really striking to look at, I guess?”  
“I don’t know what you mean, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa tilted his head as he examined the picture. Daichi and Koushi looked on, bemused. “Do you mean the hair? Well, it’s certainly very striking, I admit, and somehow it doesn’t even look that bad—”  
“Don’t be catty,” Iwaizumi swatted him lightly on the shoulder, “He’s no threat to His Royal Highness, Crappykawa—”  
“How mean!”  
“He’s an author on a book cover, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi sighed, “It doesn’t matter. And don’t pretend you don’t see how good-looking he is.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean I heard that little _oh_ when you saw his face. You only do that when you realize someone is a threat to you at something.”  
Oikawa gaped. “How do you know that?”

“You made that sound when I received you serves when we played for the first time, you made it the first time we got test scores in English class and you made it when you saw my paycheck for the first time. You made it when you saw Kenma toss for the first time, you made it when you saw that competitor’s ad on the TV, you made it when Akaashi nearly beat your kilometre runtime—”  
“Enough!” Oikawa snapped, feeling irritable. For the second time today, he felt like Iwa-chan was criticizing him, and it made him feel sensitive, like his skin was soft and hurt all over. Usually he got over it pretty quickly, but he still remembered Iwa-chan saying _You're allowed to have your own life_ and it just—  
Iwaizumi sighed. “You can’t possibly be threatened by _every_ guy who happens to be attractive. And just because they look good doesn’t mean you _don’t._ Give it a break, Oikawa.”  
“Okay,” Oikawa said, his voice coming out small. It was embarrassing to be comforted thus. As a peace offering, he added, “It _is_ a pretty great face though.”  
“Yeah.” Iwaizumi looked at it again, gaze drawn to the sullen mouth, the spitfire eyes, the lowered brows. It was a look that challenged the viewer somehow. Spikes of silver hair tipped with black hung in the man’s face, and Oikawa could see, from the way he’d folded his arms, that he had nice biceps.

“Pretty name as well,” Oikawa mused, relaxed enough to pay the author a compliment. “Goes with the face, doesn’t it? Seems like he’d be an interesting man – Semi Eita.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yessss, I'm super happy to announce the introduction of the lovely Semi Eita sometime in the next few chapters. He's one of my favourites from Shiratorizawa :D
> 
> Hageshino Echigo is a reference to Hageshina Keigo-san, who wrote The Devotion of Suspect X, one of the best mystery novels I've read in recent years. Just wanted to include it where I could.
> 
> Also, Japanese kids don't get start on Kanji till they're six, which is why I have these two teaching the kids the English alphabet and simple math here. I based their levels on my own 4 y/o niece. 
> 
> This chapter was kind of hard to write, I needed to get the tone of the argument between Oikawa and Iwaizumi just right. Also I ACTUALLY WENT AHEAD AND WROTE THE SMUT TO *AHEM* COMPLETION. This is like the first time I've published smut guys, I feel so proud haha
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **MANGA SPOILERS**
> 
>  
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>  
> 
>  
> 
> Guess who the bleached-blond from Kansai is? [ Yup](http://kisukke.tumblr.com/post/149453229625/psa-that-miya-atsumu-speaks-kansai-ben-this-is)
> 
> Also, Echigo is a reference to someone currently featuring in the manga. :D


	10. Of Threats and Evasions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But one can and must choose one’s friends wisely, my dear Kozume-kun. One cannot afford to have a friend who is a burden, especially in this field that relies on word of mouth.”
> 
> “Kuroo and I are childhood friends,” Kenma said, unable to entirely dial back the sharpness to his tone. “I cannot cut ties with him under any circumstances. Sir.”
> 
> \---
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains mild homophobia. If you're not okay with that then skip to the first (---), the event is summarised later on.

 "Kozume-kun!”

  
The busy hum of peak hour at the Black Cat Bakery gave way to the blood pounding in Kenma’s ears. Slowly he turned to the door, where his landlord – the man who had an intangible hold on him without quite knowing it – stood framed by the late morning light.   
“Kenta-san,” Kenma murmured, voice as quiet and even as ever. He could feel his employees silently looking at his back, at how stiff it must be, how his hands behind the counter were curled into fists. Kenma was self-conscious in the best of circumstances, but around his landlord he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Especially lately, with all his plans slowly falling into place. The idea of a slip of tongue or a snag in body language snatching away his dream hovered over his head like a noose.  
“How are you?” Kenta-san could be so pleasant, if he didn’t know your proclivities. His eyes crinkled pleasantly at the corners and his teeth shown small and even. He removed the hat he habitually wore, exposing the top of his bald head. The overhead lights shone on it with alacrity. He was wearing a very expensive suit, the Rolex on his wrist glinting, his face smooth and unlined at fifty years. The picture of affluent, unassuming middle-aged men everywhere.

Kenma murmured “Fine,” and directed him to the corner table, joining him with a cup of freshly brewed peppermint tea. Kenta-san took a delicate sip.  
“Anything I can help you with, Kenta-san?”  
“I just finished selling a house on the outskirts. Going to meet the new owner later today, hand over keys, you know?”  
“I’d recommend the Bitter Orange cupcakes.”  
Kenta-san accepted this with a smile. “Alright, then, Kozume-kun. Regarding the other matter we discussed—”  
“Everything is on track,” Kenma assured him. “I’ll be applying for the loan in the next month.”  
“I’m pleased,” Kenta-san smiled, “You’ve been one of my best tenants, Kozume-kun.”

“I’m honoured, Kenta-san.” Was his voice too high-pitched? He resisted the urge to shake his leg under the table, to shift the vase just a little to the left, to scratch at his head. To claw at the other man’s face in frustration. God, May couldn’t come soon enough.   
“Are you fine?” Kenta-san asked, eyes watchful.   
Kenma forced himself to relax. “Yes, just been a busy morning. You know how it is.”  
“Okay, then, Kozume-kun. I would like to bring up something I saw a few days ago. I thought I should let it go, but it preyed on my mind.”  
Kenma was instantly on alert. “What was it, sir?”  
“Ah well,” Kenta-san scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I hate to bring it up, but that tall dark-haired friend of yours? The lanky young man?”  
“Kuro,” Kenma prompted, heart in his throat.  
“Yes, him. I saw him exiting this establishment with another man of the same age, same height. I thought they might be friends, you see – the other man was certainly quite handsome. But.”  
“But?”  
Kenta-san seemed ill at ease. “I don’t want to tarnish his reputation, you see, but I was a young man too, once. I know what they look like when they, well, like another person romantically, you could say.”

“Yes, I believe you would.”  _Which is why Kuroo is never here when you’re around_ , Kenma thought.  
“I, ah, well—if you friend is indeed homosexual, that is his business of course.” Kenta-san cleared his throat. “But I advise you to keep an eye out for his activities, Kozume-kun. He was behaving that way in the vicinity of your bakery, you know. You might not find a willing customer base to come here often if this area were to acquire that sort of reputation.”  
_That's the worst fucking excuse I've ever heard_. Aloud Kenma said, “I cannot in good conscience dictate my friend’s movements, sir, no matter how unorthodox they may be.”  
“Of course,” Kenta-san hesitated, “But one can and must choose one’s friends wisely, my dear Kozume-kun. One cannot afford to have a friend who is a burden, especially in this field that relies on word of mouth.”

“Kuroo and I are childhood friends,” Kenma said, unable to entirely dial back the sharpness to his tone. “I cannot cut ties with him under any circumstances. Sir.”

Kenta-san rose then, leaving his tea untouched. “I see I have offended you, Kozume-kun. My apologies, I will take my leave before I further upset you.Please realise that I am saying all this for your benefit. I believe you are an enterprising young man, and I want to see this establishment flourish for your sake. However, you would do untold damage to your future with such thoughtlessness.”   
  
He took the box of cupcakes Fukunaga handed him, and slipped on his hat. “I grew up in this neighbourhood, and I loved its old charm before that devil Irihata set up here.” He shook his head. “Ruining the place one tenant at a time. I will not be able to sell to you, Kozume-kun, if I feel that it might contribute further to this happening. I hope we won’t come to such a situation. I wish you a good day.”

The door slid shut, and the figure moved across the bakery’s glass front to slide into a sedan that hummed away. The moment it was out of sight, Kenma slumped back against one of the chairs, face in his hands.

“Boss, you okay?” Taketora asked, settling a hand on his shoulder. Kenma took a deep breath, nodded. “Yeah, he was just being a piece of shit as usual.”  
It was rare for Kenma to swear out loud, and Taketora exchanged glances with Fukunaga. “What did he want this time?”  
“Something about Kuroo being flirty with someone near this area.”  
“Oh.”  
Something in his tone had Kenma’s head whipping around. “What did you see?”  
“Kuroo-san came in a few days ago with you friend who ordered the pineapple dark chocolate—”  
“Tooru?” Kenma blinked. Kuroo and Oikawa were friendly enough, but not  _walk into a bakery and chitchat over sweets_ friendly.  
“Well, yeah. Kuroo-san put both their orders on his tab. Then they left together.”  
“They didn’t stay for very long,” Lev added.  
“I didn’t know Kuroo-san was on such good terms with that guy, boss.” Taketora said.

 “Me neither,” Kenma muttered, almost to himself.

\---

“What’s wrong with you?”

Hinata jumped at the voice in his ear. It was Sunday, more than a week after he’d been summarily rejected by Ushijima-san, who’d then had the utter bad grace to turn around and ask Oikawa-san out not ten minutes later. Hinata knew Ushijima wasn’t the most polite of people, but he’d at least expected basic decency from him. It had bogged him down more than he liked to admit, and he’d avoided talking to anyone at work as well. Apparently Kageyama was determined to change that; Hinata was impressed with his powers of observation, and bemused that Kageyama paid him so much attention.

Then again, it might be because Hinata was spending his ten-minute break sitting at a desk in the break room with his cheek smushed against the wood.

“You’ve been different lately,” Kageyama continued.  
“How?” Hinata demanded petulantly, though he knew very well how.   
Kageyama blinked. “You’re really...dull.”  
“As opposed to?”  
“Well, bright. Sunny.”  
Hinata felt himself flush. Did Kageyama even  _know_  what he was saying?  
“I’ve had a crappy week,” he grumbled under his breath.  
“I know  _that_ , dumbass,” Kageyama shot back, “I’m asking  _why_.”  
Hinata wondered if Kageyama would feel as charitable once he knew  _why_  Hinata was upset, that is had to do with another guy, then chided himself for the thought. Kageyama had been nothing but a  _platonic_ friend, and a good one at that. Still, he didn’t feel like spilling his guts about one guy he asked out to another he might possibly...whatever, so he turned his face the other way where Kageyama couldn’t see it and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”  
“Okay...well, want to play after we get off?”

  
Hinata turned his face back to Kageyama, who was standing with his arms crossed defensively, eyes on the tile. “If—if you have an issue with the apartment complex I know a park with a volley court nearby, I could just toss to you,” he continued awkwardly, and Hinata felt his heart melt. Oikawa-san had been especially attentive to him all week, Iwaizumi-san had been very comforting, Daichi-san and Suga-san had allowed him two free coffees, but it was Kageyama, who wasn’t even in the know, who was trying to comfort him in the only way he knew  _how_ , that brought the dam crashing down.   
“O-okay,” Hinata blubbered, and Kageyama looked up in shock when his voice cracked. “Hinata—what the hell? I’m sorry, okay, you don’t have to play with me if you don’t want to, just forget it—”  
“ _No,_ ” Hinata insisted, wiping his tears, and  _oh god_ , snot was coming out now, “I—I want to play. I really want to play. R—Really.”

  
“Okay, well,” Kageyama stood uncertainly for a second before he reached into his pocket and extracted a  _handkerchief_  and held it out. Hinata giggled even as he took it and blew, grateful for the distraction. “Do you carry those around, you ladykiller?”   
Kageyama flushed to the roots of his hair. It was not an unpleasant sight. “Dumbass. I’m supposed to meet my assistant, later today—”  
“Fancy her?”  
“ _No._  Hitoka-chan is like a sister. God. Anyway, she sometimes starts crying—”  
“You make her cry?”  
“Not on purpose! She’s really soft-hearted, so she feels bad on my behalf and cries.” Kageyama was very obviously not going to discuss  _why_  the lady would feel bad, and Hinata let him get away with it. “So I carry a handkerchief on days when I meet her.”  
He was stupidly cute, Hinata thought, shaking his head. “Sorry I ruined your handkerchief.”  
“It’s fine, they come in a set. I have a lot more.” Kageyama shrugged awkwardly, and Hinata giggled. “I’m just going through some shit now, you know?” he continued, feeling like he owed a lengthier explanation. Kageyama nodded.

“Alright, alright. We’ll play after this.”  
Kageyama headed out of the break room. Hinata looked at his retreating back, then down at the crumpled handkerchief – it was embroidered with snowflakes – and smiled.

\---

“One more!” Hinata exclaimed, and Kageyama scowled at him. “Idiot, it’s already late and you just finished a shift. No need to overwork yourself.”  
_You don’t understand,_  Hinata thought,  _I need to stop thinking._  Aloud he said, “Ten more minutes?”  
Kageyama sighed. “Fine. Are we having dinner afterwards? I can invite Hitoka-chan too.”  
Hinata assented, then threw the ball to him and began his runup. Felt the exhilaration pump through his veins as the ball appeared in the perfect spot, same as always. He slammed it to the wood with feeling and whooped when he touched the ground. “That was amazing!”  
“So you said,” Kageyama teased, but his mouth tipped up at the edges. “Aren’t you tired of hitting it over and over?”  
“It’s been a while since we played,” Hinata pointed out, then immediately bit his tongue.  
“...yeah, it has,” Kageyama hesitated, then added gruffly, “Look, if you’re having any problems I might be able to help you.”  
Hinata almost laughed at that. “Fount of wisdom, are you?”

“I  _have_  had bad experiences, just like everyone else,” Kageyama said flatly, and Hinata felt a jolt of shame. “You’re right, that was rude of me. Sorry.”  
Kageyama waved it aside and sent him a few more tosses before looking at his watch. “Alright, ten minutes are up!”  
“What are you, a parking meter?” Hinata dodged the swat and cackled. “Hey, how about I pick where we eat today?”  
Kageyama shrugged as he slipped on his jacket. “Sure. Got any specific place in mind?”  
“There’s this Italian restaurant a few blocks away,” Hinata said.  
“Is Italian food going to be our thing, then?” Kageyama mused, and Hinata saw the exact moment he realized what he’d said. His eyes widened and his cheeks suffused with pink. “Um, I mean...let me text Hitoka-chan.”  
“Yeah,” Hinata was sure he was blushing as well, but he smiled at Kageyama all the same.  
“Been there before? Recommend anything?”

They talked as they walked in the streets, dodging schoolkids returning from cram school, the occasional jogger, a couple of old ladies with shopping bags. Hinata wondered if Kageyama noticed the way people parted before him, the imposing figure he cut with his dark hair and eyes and sullen expression, standing a head taller than everyone else. He surreptitiously watched Kageyama’s face as they approached yet another dog-owner who was being led by a little furry thing on a leash. Kageyama’s face remained carefully blank, but Hinata could feel the hope practically radiating from him. They approached the dog, and when they were within six feet of it, it suddenly reared back, tail between its legs, and uttered a pitiful whine. Kageyama’s face gave nothing away, but Hinata saw the slump of his shoulders.   
“You like animals?” he ventured.   
Kageyama’s hand scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I mean, I always wanted a dog, you know. But I’m not sure they like me.”

“You should get a puppy. Maybe if he grows up with you he’ll get used to you.”  
“Not now. Maybe when my career stabilises.”  
“Hey, once you get back on the team, can you introduce me to some people?”  
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” Kageyama said, sounding amused. “Who do you want to meet, though?”  
“Sakusa-san,” Hinata said reverently, and Kageyama snorted. “Trust you to pick the person most difficult to approach.”  
“But he’s a  _legend_ ,” Hinata exclaimed. “The way he hits!”  
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kageyama said evasively.

They spotted a blonde head in the distance, and Kageyama raised an arm to wave. Hinata looked at the slight smile tipping the corner of his mouth, and ignored the fluttering in his belly. He would ask Kageyama about those bad experiences later. Kageyama was a friend, after all. He was only doing the decent thing.

\---

“Kuro.”  
“Hmm?” Kuroo looked up from the music magazine he’d been reading. It was Sunday evening, and Hinata was out yet again with Kageyama. Kuroo and Kenma were currently on the couch at Kenma’s apartment, Kenma for once not looking at his balance books. Instead, he was lying with his head on Kuroo’s lap (which was rare but Kuroo wouldn’t complain) and listening to something on Kuroo’s old iPod. “This song is pretty good.”  
“Which one is it?”  
“The one you composed with your college band?  _The Friends We Were._ ”  
It took a moment to sink in, and then Kuroo froze. He’d forgotten that song was on there. “Um.”  
“About a mysterious childhood friend who disappeared. Quite mature for how old you were.”  
Kuroo opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again as he stared at the carpet. What could he say? Both he and Kenma knew what had inspired the song. It was solid proof that while they’d been separated for years at that point, Kuroo at least hadn’t forgotten.   
Kenma reached up and touched his jaw, and the shock of it had him making eye contact with Kenma again. “You should use it for your album,” Kenma whispered, and Kuroo swallowed. “You really think it’s that good?”  
Kenma nodded. “You should show it to Koutarou. He’ll definitely love it.”

“Okay,” Kuroo murmured, and kissed Kenma’s palm on impulse. Kenma flushed and pulled it back, moving to replace the headphones over his ears. Kuroo returned to the magazine, the words not entering his mind as it buzzed with memories. His college band had decided not to play it, saying the tone and lyrics didn’t match their “sound”, and he could appreciate that in retrospect, though at the time it had severely upset him.

Kenma sat up. “We have some burger buns left over today, and some patties.”  
“Vegetables?” Kuroo demanded, and Kenma wrinkled his nose. “Don’t want any.”  
“That doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things,” Kuroo declared as he headed into the kitchen to make a salad.  
“ _You_  don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.” Kuroo gasped dramatically in affront. He set about chopping vegetables for a quick vinaigrette while Kenma reheated the patties and toasted the buns. Once they’d plated their meals Kenma spoke up again.   
“I heard you came in with Tooru when I was away.”  
“We met at the store and he wanted a cake, that’s all.”  
Kenma narrowed his eyes at Kuroo, who looked back calmly. “He saw you.”  
“Who?”  
“Kenta-san. He mentioned seeing you with someone.”

Kuroo shrugged. “He might’ve. I didn’t notice anyone. Tell that old busybody to say hi next time.”  
“He doesn’t like you,” Kenma continued, “Thinks you’d be a bad influence or something.”  
Kuroo set his beer mug down with a forceful thunk. “Will if affect his chances of selling to you?”  
Kenma shook his head, “He thinks we’re just friends.”  
“Then it’s fine, isn’t it?”   
“It’s fine.” Kenma paused a beat. “Is there anything bothering you, Kuro?”  
“Like what?”  
“You were fine earlier and now I mentioned the bakery and you’re not. Did something happen with Tooru?”  
“No, it didn’t.” Kuroo sighed and tipped his head back; he could feel Kenma’s unmoving gaze on his face. “We just talked, it was nice, he was thinking of getting some weird cake—”  
“Pineapple and dark chocolate.”  
“Yes, that one.”   
“Just...why?”  
“Why?”

Kenma refused to admit how dry his throat felt. “Why were you hanging out with him suddenly? It’s just not like you.”  
Kuroo groaned and rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Okay. To be honest we were just walking back from the supermarket when I saw that asshole rounding the corner in his shitty car, yeah? So I just acted a little friendly with Oikawa since I didn’t want him sniffing around you and me.”  
“He thinks you’re a bad influence on me now.”  
“Well, he's not  _wrong."_ Kuroo's tone was acerbic. "What would you have me do? Not talk to any man lest that fuckwad get leery?"  
"Of course not."  
"Are you saying, then, that him being suspicious of Oikawa and I is worse than him being suspicious of us?"  
“I’m not.” Kenma looked back at his plate.   
Kuroo sighed again. Kenma's heart squeezed at the utter weariness in it. “I’m not scolding you. Just...don’t bring him up. I understand your circumstances, I really do, and I promise I'll be patient. But not a day goes by when I wish he wouldn't just die in a ditch somewhere or be swallowed up by quicksand or just fuck off to Narnia so Simba can tear him to pieces.”  
“Aslan," Kenma corrected, "and don't you think that's a little extreme?"  
Kuroo's head turned to face him so quickly Kenma was sure he'd get whiplash. "No," Kuroo replied voice low and menacing and eyes boring into Kenma's, “He’s effectively preventing me from doing something I want to do very, very badly. I don’t think it’s extreme at all.”

Kenma wasn’t sure if he quite managed to suppress the shiver that went up his spine.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's been more than five months since the last update!
> 
> To anyone still reading this...thank you so much for your patience. It's been a tough few months for me, academically and emotionally. I'm not going to make promises about updates I can't keep, but I hope you'll revisit this fic every once in a while and see what this motley bunch is up to <3
> 
> \---
> 
> To my wonderful people on Discord who've been urging me to write this for months <3 You guys have been lovely, all the more because I met you in a difficult period of my life. Thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> How was it? I'd love some feedback! Please feel free to comment :)


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